Tell Me No Lies
by Ornamental Nonsense
Summary: Hans Landa knew that his work sometimes had unintended consequences, but he never expected a child to be delivered to his doorstep. The woman who came with the child had secrets to hide, but she never expected Landa to notice her. Ah, complications of war
1. Chapter 1: T ea for Two

Chapter 1: Tea for Two

Colonel Hans Landa: Jew Hunter, investigator, SS Standartenführer, man of charm and cruelty. One could easily picture him standing over a corpse with a smile, or perhaps threateningly waving a gun in someone's face—an assessment that he wouldn't argue against, although he might phrase it with a little more sophistication. Certainly the pistol at his hip looked fitting enough, and his crisp, gray uniform emphasized the command that he demanded, the impression only furthered by the death's head on his hat. Yes, he was a man that dressed for his part, and one could imagine him doing any number of activities from sipping champagne to shooting someone, but even his aide was surprised to see him now, for if there was anything that was difficult to picture Hans Landa doing, it was sitting at a diminutive table set for tea, a little girl seated across from him.

"Guten Tag," he greeted, voice pleasant and friendly, and that infernal smile of his plastered on his face. His voice had a way of disarming people, the flow of his words coated with both honey and venom depending on the situation, but the child opposite him merely stared, her wispy, blond hair pulled backed into pigtails, and her hands fidgeting with the lace on her blue dress. She was an adorable creature with her large, blue eyes and rosy cheeks, her shy nature in sharp contrast to the confident man watching her with interest.

"Hallo," she softly greeted, and Landa's smile broadened.

"There, that wasn't so difficult, was it? You should talk more often since you have such a pretty voice." The little girl shook her head in embarrassment, now looking up at the man with the dancing eyes, and the way that he held his leather gloves so casually on his lap.

"Would...would you like some tea?" she asked, reaching for her pink tea pot. She'd set the child's table expertly, a white tablecloth covering the top where she had prepared a tea pot and two cups and saucers. Landa removed his hat and set it aside, his body much too large to be comfortably seated in the small chair available to him, and chuckled as he smoothed his rich, blond hair back over his head.

"Since you've offered, I would love some tea, my dear," he told her, making the little girl smile.

"Herr Oberst, do you have any orders concerning the woman?" an SS man standing near the door to the playroom asked, to which Landa raised a single finger in warning.

"In good time," he assured. "Miss Hoffman is obviously a very proper young lady, and we wouldn't want to startle her sensibilities, would we?" His subordinate held his tongue, a single word from the colonel enough to still his impatience. People did not rush the Standartenführer, at least not if they wished to advance in their career, for Landa was blessed with a remarkably long memory, and he did not suffer insubordination very well. In fact, he was rather known for his unpredictable and dangerous moods, which were as likely to express themselves in a grin as a stern stare, and of those two, the former implied a much worse fate for the recipient.

"Möchten Sie Zucker?" the little girl asked as she poured Landa imaginary tea.

"Bitte." She proceeded to drop a pretend sugar cube into his teacup, and Landa rose the fake cup to his lips, saucer carefully held beneath it to catch any drips. "Mmm," he hummed, eyes closed as if savoring the taste. "I don't think that I've had such delicious tea in a long time."

"Do you know the flavor?" the girl smiled, sipping from her own cup.

"Don't tell me," Landa teased, lips pursed in thought and eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Peach?"

"No," and the pigtails swayed as the girl happily shook her head.

"Well, what else would a little girl like...? Something fruity, I think, so I'll have to go with lemon." She shook her head again, leaning closer to the table as Landa also leaned in, the two looking like co-conspirators to the aid who watched the scene in tense silence. "You'll just have to tell me then," Landa's sweet voice told the girl.

"Mint chocolate, silly!" she exclaimed, and Landa heaved an exaggerated sigh.

"Ah, now _that_ was my next guess," he explained, causing the girl to giggle. "But it's my turn to ask a question now." His once playful brown eyes adopted a harsher, colder edge as he set his teacup aside, the playful smile intact, but a sinister quality tainting the curve of his lips. He was about to break the back of this household, and he was going to do it with the help of this innocent, ignorant angel. His anticipation only swelled as he heard running in the hallway outside, a woman yelling at a man to release her as something slammed into the wall. He held a hand aloft before his companion even thought to move, his stern gaze clearly ordering the man to remain in place as the sounds of struggle drew closer to room. Any moment now...

"Hans!"

"Mutti?" the child spoke, small voice concerned and confused as a woman burst into the room. Landa merely smiled at the new arrival, taking in the disheveled blond curls that cascaded over the woman's shoulders, and the large bruise blossoming on a finely crafted face of high cheekbones and delicate lips. The woman truly was a beauty, or she would have been if she didn't look so unkempt, one of her black, high heels being broken, and her green dress rumbled in all the wrong places from running. Landa was seriously tempted to light his pipe just to anger the intruder further, but he was too busy drinking in the sight of her narrowed eyes, anger only barely masking the fear that he knew was making her pulse pound.

"Mutti, was hat passiert?"

"Hans, you get away from her, you bastard!" The woman's breath came in heavy gasps, her fists clenched as Landa retrieved his hat and gracefully stood in one swift movement.

"It's a pleasure to see you again too, Elfriede, but perhaps you should not shout in front of the child. You might frighten this treasure of yours. Come, Brigitte," he instructed, holding a hand out to the little girl, who hesitated. Her eyes darted between her mother and this stranger, but the man's eyes were insistent, and her mother remained speechless as a large, calloused hand enveloped the tiny digits of a girl too young to understand the dangerous overtones of the situation.

"Hans, please..." the woman begged, but Landa ignored her, quickly scooping the child up into his arms, where he held her, face beaming at the angel within his grasp.

"She has your blue eyes," he mused, sounding pleased. "I always did like your eyes."

"HANS!" The girl whimpered as Landa held her closer, his eyes darkening dangerously as he took a step closer to the mother.

"You should watch your tone," he tutted. "You of all people should know that I do not take kindly to such aggressive and disrespectful behavior. There, there," he assured the now crying child, one of his hands gently stroking her hair, and the laughter in his eyes dying as he brought his mouth closer to the girl's ear, his breath tickling silky, blond strands. "You see, Brigitte," he soothingly spoke. "Your mother knows something very important, but she doesn't want to tell me. Maybe you can be more helpful. Mommy will be much happier once she has this secret off of her chest."

"I already told you that I know nothing," the woman argued, eyes never leaving the hand that stroked her daughter's hair. If the man wanted to, he could easily snap the lovely neck beneath that hair, and what would she do then, if she lost her precious daughter?

"We both know that's a lie," Landa easily replied. "And don't provoke me, Mrs. Hoffman, or you might regret it."

"You're a monster," she scathingly spat, but when he took another step closer, those recently shined, black boots of his light on the soft, white carpet, she retreated in her broken heels, keeping a safe distance between them. It was a poor move on her part, for her retreat was blood in the water for the shark hunting her, the scent of her fear heightening already predatory senses.

"You didn't think that I was a monster several years ago," he mockingly teased, his words rubbing salt in the wounds of her heart.

"I had no idea that you could be so cruel..." The woman closed her eyes, swallowed, and then reopened them to this nightmare. "I only saw the handsome, successful colonel, and not the bastard that's beneath those shining medals of yours. Please, Hans, for old times sake. Don't hurt my daughter." Landa seemed to consider, but she knew that he was on the brink of smiling as he took a strand of the girl's hair and began twirling it around his finger, eyes challenging—no, daring her to object to the simple gesture.

"I wouldn't dream of hurting this cherubim, but there is this slight problem concerning your cooperation," he stated. "Just tell me who you were spying for, and where the tapes are, and I'll be on my way. I can walk out of that door and never bother you again—not for information, not for a repeat performance, not for the rest of your lifetime, and I ask for so little in return." He stopped twirling the hair and smiled down at the girl, who was watching him with watery eyes.

"You have to promise not to hurt her," the mother insisted.

"Very well," Landa sighed. "I swear not to harm a hair on her head. Satisfied?"

The woman stepped backward until her back touched the wall, and then her body sagged against the flowery wallpaper, a few tears sliding down her cheeks, and the lines that her makeup worked so hard to hide revealing themselves as if she'd given up on all pretense in life. There was only sorrow and hardship in her eyes now, the intensity of her emotions matching the hardness in Landa's face as he waited, clearly growing impatient. He was a man who took his time to do things properly, but he did have other engagements to get to today.

"Fine," the woman relented. "The tapes are inside a fake book on the shelf in my bedroom—the red one with gold lettering, The Grapes of Wrath."

"American literature, an interesting choice," Landa chuckled. "Go on."

"I was supposed to give the tapes to a man in Berlin by the name of Friedrich Bauer. From there, I don't know how he planned to get them out of Germany." Landa smiled, and the woman flinched, sickened to think of that face staring down at her as she lay on her bed, his body pressed against hers. She wished that she could claim drunkenness, but he made damn sure that his conquests were never inebriated, the sick son of a bitch. Maybe he wanted to ensure that they could remember every detail and regret it later.

"Hans," she reminded him. "The girl."

"Ah, yes, how forgetful of me!" Hans lowered the girl to the floor, replaced his hat on his head, and marched toward the door, arms behind his back as the mother rushed to embrace her child. He heard the sobs being heaved into the girl's hair, and wondered how such emotional people could tolerate themselves. His companion followed him out of the room, their boots making a straight pathway toward the front door, where Landa's personal car would transport them back to his current residence in Berlin. He would be shipped to France soon, and he needed to make preparations.

"Herr Oberst," his assistant said, interrupting his thoughts. "What are your orders?"

"Kill the mother, bring me the tapes."

"Jawohl," came the sharp response. "And the girl?"

"I'm sure that she has family somewhere. If not, there are always orphanages," Landa dismissed, completely unconcerned as a soldier opened the car door for him. One boot resting on the car's side runner, he turned one last time to look over the beautiful home where his latest catch lived. It was a stunning country manor with large windows lining the white stone front, and carefully trimmed hedges lining the driveway that led to the front doors. He wouldn't mind buying the home once the family was ousted, and ousted they would be, for there was no mercy for traitors, and the woman was a widow anyway. With her death, the government would confiscate the property, and the girl...well, the fates would place her where they would, or so Landa would be inclined to claim if he believed in fate.

"I love visiting the countryside!" he happily exclaimed as he slid into the black car. "Nothing like a bit of fresh air to make me better appreciate the city." The car door slammed shut, and the vehicle pulled away from the house, the family that dwelled in it no more than a name to be crossed off of his wanted list as green fields flew by the window. Somewhere behind him, another black car waited to deliver the rest of the men back to HQ, and a shot rang out in the silence of the home, followed by the wailing of a child. Landa heard none of this, but he could imagine the sharp blast of a gun signaling yet another success, and the thought made him smile in satisfaction. Sometimes his line of work was incredibly dirty, but he didn't mind. Not at all.

****************

2 Months Later:

It was dark when Adelgiese finally returned home, her hands rough from scrubbing floors and handling chemical cleaners, and her eyes were ringed in tired, dark circles. Alone on the streets, she kept to herself as she unlocked the rickety door to the small apartment that she called home, but it wouldn't be home for much longer. She couldn't afford to keep even this hovel now that the wealthier officers had moved to occupied France where the action was. Holed up in their fancy, stolen homes, they had no care for the beauty that they'd once hired to clean for them, and that had been the main motivation in hiring her: beauty. She certainly didn't feel beautiful as she entered her apartment and locked the door behind her, but when she offered to clean for wealthy soldiers, she dolled herself up and fluttered her eyelashes, using her looks to get herself hired where others failed.

"Aunty?" a drowsy voice called. Shit, she'd thought the girl would be asleep by now, but apparently not. Looking at the couch that served as a bed, she could see the outline of the child in the dark, the girl sitting upright with a blanket wrapped around her.

"It's only me, Brigitte. Go back to sleep."

"I thought maybe the bad men had come back." Oh, the poor dear. The woman tossed her purse onto a nearby chair and quickly slipped out of her dress and apron, hanging them on a hook by the door and moving to sit on the couch. She only wore her undergarments to bed on warm spring nights like this, for there was nothing else to wear, and the child didn't mind. Wrapped in warm blankets, they would fall asleep together, the girl curled against her guardian's chest, and the worries of another day put behind them.

"Hush," the woman told the girl. "The bad men are gone."

"The man with the scar on his cheek killed mother."

"Shhh. What's done is done. Did you eat the food that I left?" She felt rather than saw the girl's head nod as they both stretched out on the old sofa, a stubborn spring poking the woman uncomfortably in the back as she tried to situate herself.

"Goodnight," the girl sleepily muttered.

"Goodnight." The child's breathing soon evened out, making it apparent that she'd fallen asleep, but her guardian could not drift away so easily. Laying awake, her empty eyes scanned the room around her, taking in everything from the faded wallpaper to the worn carpet and porcelain pan that served as a sink. Life hadn't always been this hard for Adelgiese Hoffman, but with a child to take off and her bread moving away, she had little to sustain her humble lifestyle. With a bitter smile, she recalled the lavish gowns that she'd once worn to parties, where her father would smile at each man who wished a dance with his eldest daughter, but now she could hardly remember what silk felt like, and had she really ever worn diamonds?

She wrapped an arm around the child and pulled her closer. Life had not been easy for a long time now, not since she'd defied her father and been disinherited by him in a fit of rage, the memory of which had once made her cry, but now...now she merely smiled the sad, accepting smile of a woman accustomed to hardship. She still had the little joys in life, like a chocolate here or there, and the laughter that she shared with other maids when their employer did something foolish. The chocolate was the best thought, for she'd always had a sweet tooth, and in the end, what did she care if her diamonds had been taken away so long as she felt free? That had been her argument on many a cold winter night, but now there was someone else to think of rather than just herself, and this wandering, uncertain lifestyle was nothing for a child to endure.

"Mutti...bitte..."

"Shhh," she soothed, planting a light kiss atop the girl's blond hair. "Sleep. You're safe." The girl settled, and Adelgiese considered the few bills in her possession. It would be enough to buy a new dress to send the girl to school in, and she'd be damned if she sent this child into a den of wolves to be ridiculed. Children, after all, could be so cruel, and she herself had never had an easy time before she'd blossomed into a woman with curves, breasts, and lovely blue eyes that watched the world from beneath dark brown tresses. Her sister had been the blond, and how she had envied that before she'd grown into an adult, but now that sister was dead, executed by the SS for betraying Germany.

"Oh, Elfriede," she sighed. "You were never the sneaky one. You should never have attempted to play that game." No, her sister had been the socialite: talkative and seductive, her face as open as a child's most of the time. Father had called her Chatterbox, marking Adelgiese as the quieter, more thoughtful one who preferred to lounge in the corner of the room while her sister flirted with every passing suitor. It wasn't that the elder sibling hadn't socialized, but she'd never been bouncy or an emotional firecracker like her sister, or so she liked to think. She could remember times when she'd been reduced to a tearful mass by a boy or perhaps a degrading peer in school, but in retrospect, that person had nothing to do with who she was now, which brought her back to her current dilemma: what to do about Brigitte?

No one else was left to take the child except perhaps the father, and although Adelgiese knew who that was, she was loathe to approach the man. He had a vile reputation, and if the rumors were true, he'd played a hand in executing her sister. Could there really be any doubt? Brigitte spoke of a blond man who smiled the biggest smile that she'd ever seen, and who had been kind until he left and let the other man kill mother. And so the colonel obviously wanted nothing to do with the child, but perhaps he didn't realize that the girl was his. After all, Elfriede had claimed the girl to belong to her late husband, and the truth had only come out in a letter of confession to her lost sister. How sweet. The exile was remembered when a heart needed to bleed, but never mind lifting a hand to help the impoverished.

"Hans Landa," Adelgiese spoke into the empty room. With her last savings, she could find the man, and he would certainly provide Brigitte with a better material upbringing. He would have to take the girl in if confronted, for Brigitte was the poster child for the Aryan race, and as a soldier, he was expected to perform certain duties, but what if he abused her? He wasn't a nice man in any sense if what was said about him was true, and some of the rumors were downright terrifying, but what choice did Adelgiese have? Her savings could get them to Paris, where Landa was stationed at the moment, and beyond that...there had to be a way to ensure Brigitte's safety.

The night deepened, and the steady click of the old clock beside the couch counted the hours as they lengthened. Morning felt like a distant entity, as distant as France, but that wasn't very far at all, was it? With the rising sun, Adelgiese Hoffman would need to make a decision, and the more she deliberated, the less she liked the conclusions that she was forced to reach.


	2. Chapter 2: E nter the Door

Chapter 2: Enter the Door. Don't Look Back

"We're not looking to add anyone to the household staff," the man stated without looking up, his eyes fixed on the stack of papers that he was rifling through. Adelgiese stood at attention before his desk, faint morning light filtering through the nearby window and falling across the points of her red heels. She had dressed in a short, black dress that was modest enough and showcased her natural beauty, her hands delicately held before her as she tossed hair over her shoulder. The man, who was still denying her his attention, was obviously uninterested in her proposition, but if he'd bothered to look up, he would have seen the determined glint in her eyes and known that she would not settle for a simple dismissal.

"Herr Zissel," she began while taking her time to study the man. He was young—no more than twenty-five would be her guess—and his chocolate brown hair was combed to the side but for a few stubborn strands that dangled in his face. "Excuse my boldness, sir, but you haven't even looked at my resume." The man finally glanced up at her, impatience stamped on his face as she offered him a slight smile, the thought of her shoe flying at his head sorely tempting.

"Fraulein..." The man fumbled for her name while he shuffled his papers about. "Fraulein Hoffman, the colonel keeps a small staff and prefers it that way. We are not looking to hire anyone new, and quite frankly, I have more important business to attend to." _You wish that you had more important business_, Adelgiese mentally corrected him, for his position was all too clear to her. Young and ambitious, he was new and had yet to work his way up the ranks, hence why he was forced to deal with trivial matters like household staff.

"I traveled quite a distance to submit my application, sir," she said, forcing her tone to remain passive and pleasant. "You could at least show some consideration by looking at my papers. If, upon review, you find me lacking, I will trouble you no further, but surely the colonel would prefer a German maid to the French ones that came with the house." The man paused, undecided as Adelgiese encouraged him with a slight tilt of her head that revealed her long neck to the sunlight as she pretended to look out the window. With a huff that proclaimed his unwilling acquiescence, he finally turned to give her papers more attention, making her fight back a satisfied smile.

"Adelgiese?" the man asked, eyebrows furrowing together.

"An old name, I know," she easily responded. "I prefer to be called Del."

"I see." She followed the movement of his eyes as they scanned her papers, his brow furrowing further as he continued to look over her impressive resume. Hell, the man ought to be impressed considering the high ranking officers that she'd served, and she also came very highly recommended by the household managers that she'd worked under. If she didn't land this job, it would be Herr Zissel's mistake.

"I see that you come with the usual skills," the officer thoughtfully commented, one of his hands working to correct the hair that tickled his forehead. "You have experience working parties, and have handled secretarial duties...you're fluent in English and speak some French?"

"Yes, sir."

"How much French?"

"Enough to get by." The man nodded, seemingly distracted as he unconsciously lifted a pen and began tapping it against the desk. Adelgiese hoped that he didn't make a habit of that, because it was damn annoying. "Do you cook?" he asked.

"I only make the finest rolls in the world, sir."

"Just rolls?"

"Of course not, but that's my only strength in the kitchen." The man tossed her papers aside and leaned back, eyes scanning her body and finally coming to rest on her face, his eyes slightly narrowed as the pen continued to tap out a steady rhythm.

"You say that you traveled a long way to apply here, why?"

"My employers have moved out of Germany, and I am in need of money, sir," she frankly spoke. "I've been told that the colonel pays well, and after seeing the house, this seems an agreeable place to work. I must admit that I was looking for an excuse to visit France anyway." She'd decided that it was best to keep her explanations simple, direct, and as honest as possible, the approach having served her well over the years, and so she easily resorted to it now. Lies, after all, were difficult to keep up with once they began to build.

"You have heard of the colonel's...reputation?" Zissel asked.

"He serves the fatherland to the best of his abilities, sir," she answered. "I see no problem with that, and I am only a maid. It is not my place to pass judgement on men who are winning the war for us." Her answer seemed to please the man, for he smiled for the first time, suddenly much more amiable to her presence as he stood and straightened the cuffs of his uniform.

"You're in luck, Fraulein Hoffman. The French maids are downright hostile if not inefficient, and since you come so highly recommended, I think that I can find a place for you. I've actually been looking for the right person to replace some of the garbage working here." He held out a hand to her, and she gladly accepted, her eyes maintaining enough contact with his to seem interested without overstepping her bounds.

"I am indeed lucky then," she agreed. "And so is the colonel. I imagine that having the enemy in your own home is not very enjoyable."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," the man softly laughed. "The colonel puts the fear of the Reich in them, so they never step out of line, but we are always guarding against spying. Just last week we executed a maid for stealing documents. The parlor didn't suffer any damage though." They had executed someone here, in the house? Adelgiese did not like the sound of that as she shook and released the officer's hand. The thought of Brigitte stumbling upon a dead maid was not her idea of a safe environment, but then she mentally slapped herself, knowing that bringing the girl here was a dangerous gamble from the start. Living under the same roof as one of the most hated Nazis in France would include many dangers, and she was certain that most of those dangers hadn't even occurred to her yet.

"I'll call Marlene," Zissel continued. "She's in charge of the staff, and you will report to her."

"Danke, Herr Zissel. I look forward to getting started." Adelgiese lifted the small suitcase beside her feet, and the man's face again adopted a serious expression.

"Bitte," he replied. "And if you hear anything suspicious..."

"I'll come directly to you, sir."

"Good. Be my eyes and ears among the staff, Fraulein, and I can assure you that you'll become an investment worth keeping." Well, apparently the young man had some cunning in him after all. Adelgiese hadn't expected to be involved in political activities, but she had few objections to merely using her ears among maids as Zissel rang for Marlene, and if eavesdropping earned her a permanent position, she would perform said duties. She idly wondered how closely the colonel watched his staff, or if the matter was entirely left in the hands of the man before her. Either way, she found herself pleased with this turn of events as she glanced out the window, the view overlooking a bustling street corner, and the chatter from a cafe drifting toward the window.

Brigitte was waiting to be brought into the house, sitting below, near that wall, likely clutching her bag tightly to her chest. Adelgiese again questioned her current course of action, but if she couldn't afford to keep the girl herself, something had to be done. Putting the child into an orphanage might have produced kind, adoptive parents, but in this atmosphere of war and Nazism, such a perfect Aryan child would likely be snatched up by pro-Hitler forces anyway, and then the indoctrination would start. At least Landa wasn't known to be active in the party, and yes, despite that, he might be just as distasteful in how he would raise a child, but still...Adelgiese withheld her consternation, knowing that at least this way she could watch over Brigitte's life. This war-torn world was too harsh to set a child adrift alone.

"_Do you remember the man with blond hair, Brigitte?" she asked. "Did he frighten you?"_

_ "No. I liked him. It was the other man that I didn't like—the one with the scar."_

_ "Good, because what I'm about to tell you might be uncomfortable, but it has to be said. I'm taking you to France, where your real father lives. I don't think that he knows about you, but life will be easier for us if we go to him. We have to do this, Brigitte. We have to do this to survive, and I need you to be on your best behavior, especially with your father. But don't tell him about me. He might not want me being there, because I've done some things that he wouldn't like, but we can stick together if you're brave..."_

"You called, sir?" The voice was rough and lower than Adelgiese would have expected for a woman, and she turned with interest to view the new arrival. Before her stood a woman with gray hair that was pulled back into a bun to reveal a face that could have been chiseled from stone with its square, hard jaw, and high forehead. The woman was of a bulkier build, but would have been of average appearance otherwise if not for her seemingly sour disposition. Hard, green eyes turned on Adelgiese, and from the slight sneer marring the woman's wide face to her stiff, unwelcoming posture, it was obvious that she disliked her new maid on sight.

_Hello Frau Friendly_, Adelgiese sarcastically thought, meeting the woman's cold stare with a warm smile. Nothing was worse than working for someone with temperament issues, and she imagined that her being German had a lot to do with the annoyed expression of her new overseer.

"This is Adelgiese Hoffman," Zissel was saying in French. "She'll be your new maid."

"My staff is full," the woman gruffly argued. "We already have two cleaners, a gardener, and a chef."

"I know," the man dismissively replied, irritation creeping into his voice. "Fire one of the cleaners." The woman's face darkened even further, if that was possible, and Adelgiese let her smile fall, intuition telling her that there would be no buttering up this stern woman. "Is that understood, Marlene?"

"Oui." Adelgiese wondered if Zissel always degraded the older woman by referring to her by first name, but as she looked at the increasingly annoyed man, she quickly decided yes. If she was going to butt heads with this woman as often as he apparently did, this was not going to be a pleasant job to work. _And you were expecting what, exactly? _

"Give Fraulein Hoffman a tour of the house."

"Oui. This way, Mädchen." Making the best of this situation might be more difficult than she'd anticipated.

*************

Hans Landa sat at his desk, one elbow propped on the tabletop with his head leaning against it, and the other using a pen to mark the large map of France that was spread out before him. The room smelled of tobacco and cedar—a combination that pleased the colonel as his sharp eyes darted across the map, his concentration uninterrupted despite the record playing in the background, which happened to be his favorite. The Nazis might have banned the playing of jazz, but it was a rule that Landa willfully ignored, and who was going to report him? His aide? The man wouldn't dare, and so Django Reinhardt's guitar continued to play, violins joining the smooth sound as a pen continued to mark x's on the suspected locations of Jewish runaways.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Ja, was?" Landa asked, sitting up straighter in his high-backed chair. His private study was beautifully furnished with wooden furniture polished to perfection, and bookshelves encircled the edges of the round room, being built directly into the wall as they were. A leather sofa sat facing french doors that opened onto a balcony, and the low table before it was covered with neatly stacked files, the most sensitive of which were not displayed but locked away in the cabinet opposite his desk. There was a small bar built into the cabinet, where sat a few glasses and a large bottle of red wine, its contents low due to the nightly drink that Landa indulged in before climbing into bed. Sparse, organized, but comfortable, it was his ideal setting.

"Entschuldigung, Herr Oberst. There is a situation."

"Enter." The aide entered the room in his gray, SS uniform, the man's cool demeanor making him perfect for working with Landa. The colonel could remember when the man had first taken on his duties, already hardened from battle against de Gaulle's Free French fighters, and recommended due to his proactive nature. The colonel had not been disappointed either, for the man carried out summary executions without hesitancy, and the only time Landa had ever seen him hesitate was when it came to children. That had been all too apparent when he'd gone to the farm to find the Dreyfus family, for his aide had hesitated in aiming at the floorboards. A flaw, surely, but Landa knew that duty would overcome the man's aversion.

"What seems to be the problem?" he asked.

"There is a visitor downstairs in the..."

"Ein Moment," Landa interrupted, a small smile gracing his face. The aide paused as his superior tilted his head toward the record player. "I love the beginning of 'Georgia on My Mind'. Although, I know that you don't have much appreciation for jazz, Major Schneider." Their conversation remained frozen as Landa waited for a minute or so, face calm as moody lyrics drifted over them before he suddenly snapped back to attention, leaning forward to rest his clasped hands on his desk.

"Now, as you were saying," he encouraged.

"A visitor arrived to see you, and judging by the looks of her, she's planning to stay." Stay? Landa hoped that it wasn't some foolish woman that he'd bedded, come to him out of need or some delusion that he wanted more to do with her than a single night. He had no tolerance for clingy women, as if any of them would want to be married to him once they realized what kind of man he was, but he supposed that his rank and prestige would keep them around regardless.

"Did this visitor say anything? Give a name?" Landa pressed.

"No, sir. She even hid behind the new maid that found her when I entered the room. I suggest that you meet with her, sir. You'll recognize her, and I think it best that you handle this personally." Now Landa was intrigued, his curious nature heightening as he mulled over this new information. And if the woman was shy, all the better, because shy women were so easy to flatter and lull into false security. Of all breeds of women, he liked them the least, but found them the most amusing to use.

"Send her up then," he instructed, and the aide immediately moved toward the door. "Oh, and Major?"

"Yes, sir?"

"I was not informed that there was a new addition to the staff. I expect to be told such details. Pass the word along to Zissel and tell him that it'd better not happen again." After another 'yes, sir', Landa was again alone, and he stood to move toward the record player, his nimble fingers flicking the needle off of the track, even though the song wasn't finished. 'Tea for Two' was a better piece in his opinion—the perfect song for drinking scotch rather than tea, as it were, but he would wait to continue the music until after knowing who this mysterious visitor was.

He moved to the window and leaned against the frame, eyes casually sweeping across the city outside, and noted that there was no car waiting outside for this visitor. Either the person didn't have money or she really was planning on staying. He would need to speak to this new maid afterwards and find out where she'd found this visitor, for the mere fact that his aide had selected the word 'found' to describe the visitor's arrival had not gone unnoticed. Language was a lovely, nuanced thing in his opinion, and he read into the deepest subtleties of words with interest and pride, knowing that people selected their words unconsciously, which always revealed more than they intended.

Landa listened carefully as footsteps neared his study, but he only heard a single pair of feet, and judging by the familiar, heavy and swift steps, it had to be Schneider, but why would he be coming alone? Expecting a complication, Landa turned and assumed a more commanding stance, his eyes fixed on the doors as he ordered the person to enter before the knocking was even finished. It was only years of practice in schooling his features that prevented him from looking surprised by the sight that greeted him as those double doors swung, for Schneider had not returned alone. His companion's footsteps had merely been too soft to detect.

"Major," Landa began. "What is the meaning of this?"

"It's a child, sir."

"I can see that," he dryly returned, instantly recognizing the little girl that lingered behind his aide. She wore a simple green dress that's style had passed out of fashion months ago, and judging by its worn appearance, she'd likely acquired it secondhand. Her blond hair was as sleek as he remembered though, and it hung loosely about her face, her eyes downcast and her posture rigid as he studied her. So his guest was indeed a female from his past, but what the hell was she doing here?

"This is the visitor?" Landa asked.

"Yes, sir, and she was found alone. She brought this with her." The aide held aloft a small traveling bag, and held it out to the girl, who immediately shied away from him with her lower lip trembling.

"Give it here," Landa instructed, walking forward and taking the bag from his assistant. "You may go, major." He could tell that the girl didn't like the man, and he suddenly wondered if the child had been in the room when Schneider executed her mother. That would explain her agitated state, but not why she'd come to France, and surely a child would and could not undertake a journey like that alone. She'd gotten help from someone, and he _would_ find out who that person was.

"You're a long way from home, Brigitte," he commented as Schneider exited the room, shutting the doors to leave Landa and the girl alone. She looked up at him with those blue eyes of hers, and his vision fell on the envelope that she held in her tiny hands. "What is an angel like you doing in France, my dear?"

"I had to come," the girl answered, reluctant and obviously nervous. This would not do if he wanted straight answers from her.

"Ah, but I'm hardly acting the proper host," he apologized with a smile, capturing the girl's eyes with his friendly expression. "You must be tired from the trip, and here I am making you stand. Please, have a seat on the couch with me. It will be more comfortable for us to talk that way." To encourage her, he walked forward and placed a hand on her shoulder, the gesture easily reassuring the child as he gently propelled her toward their intended destination. He could already see her spirits rising as he sat down and watched her climb onto the soft leather beside him, her bag sitting between them. He had more important matters to attend to over at his desk, but he sensed that there was more to this situation than met the eye, and that envelope likely held his answers.

"Besser, ja?" he asked her.

"Ja," she answered, tucking hair behind her ears. "That man isn't coming back, is he?"

"Wer? Major Schneider?" She nodded, giving Landa a probable answer to at least one of his questions. "He's my assistant, but don't you worry about him. Let's not ruin your visit by talking about someone who makes you nervous." He offered her his most winning smile, the grin and the resulting dimples lending his face a charm and warmth in which the girl could detect no deceit. Ah children, such trusting creatures, and Landa found it amusing that Schneider, who cared about children far more than himself, should be distrusted by the girl while he'd already gotten a small smile out of her. It was there: a slight curve of her lips, still reserved but opening up to his friendliness.

"Now, what brings you here, Brigitte?" Landa asked.

"Mutti is gone," she softly voiced, the smile that he'd almost won vanishing. "I had nowhere to go, and I'm supposed to give you this." She held out the envelope, and Landa eagerly took it, tearing open the end to find a handwritten message inside, although the letter was not in its entirety. The top section had been torn off, which prevented him from knowing to whom the letter had been addressed, but he did know who'd written it before he even glanced at the ending signature. Elfriede had always written in a very distinct, flourishing style due to calligraphy lessons, and his quick recognition stoked the pride that he took in his investigative skills. The ego stroke was, however, short lived, for displeasure quickly replaced self-congratulation as he read the letter's contents, which lambasted him as an immoral freak. It was the middle section that interested him most though, for it referred to a child born of a one-night stand between himself and Elfriede, and how that child had been passed off as belonging to the husband.

"Do you know why you were sent here, Brigitte?" he asked, tucking the letter inside of his uniform's jacket, and wrapping his mind around the concept of being this girl's father. Sometimes his work had unintended consequences, but he'd be damned if he'd ever expected a child to be dropped on his doorstep. It made little difference to his calculating mind though, for compared to most surprises, this was relatively minor and certainly not life-threatening.

"You're my father," Brigitte answered, staring at him with wide eyes, and he was amused to think that the child was studying his face and reaction much like he was watching hers. Now that he looked at her more closely, the shade of her blond hair was darker and richer than the mother's, resembling his more than Elfriede's, and there might be some of him in her face, but nothing distinct. Still, he had no reason to believe that Elfriede had fabricated this letter, for why would she since the letter was old and from a time when she'd wanted nothing to do with him? No, he did not doubt that this child was his as he considered the evidence, but he did wonder how the child had gotten the letter.

"Who gave you this?" he asked, holding the letter up. Brigitte remained silent, and so he reached out a hand and gently held her chin, a thumb softly brushing her cheek as he smiled. "Do you trust me, Brigitte? I know that we don't know each other very well, but a daughter should trust her father. You were sent to me because someone thinks that I'll take very good care of you." Oh, how those soft, blue eyes of hers held such hope, and there was that yearning within them that was so natural to all children. She wanted to be loved and to trust the man who was being so kind.

"But you weren't married to mutti," the girl argued, sounding confused.

"No, but sometimes children are born outside of marriage. Your mother and I were very close once upon a time." Okay, so that wasn't entirely accurate, but the truth wasn't always very expedient. "Would you like to have a father again?"

"Yes..." Her eyes were fixed on him, and Landa released her face, opting to softly stroke her hair to further calm her. All the while, his mind was on the move, pondering what he was going to do about having a child thrust into his life. How difficult could it be when he successfully maneuvered through hostile territory and forced or persuaded people to give him exactly what he wanted on a regular basis? "But you let that man kill mutti," the girl suddenly spoke, bringing his attention back to her.

"Your mother did something very bad, Brigitte," he explained, voice low to emphasize the seriousness of his words. "She did something that could have hurt many, many Germans, and she had to be stopped. When you did something wrong, I'm sure that your parents punished you. Well, sometimes adults also have to be punished, but I'm not talking about stealing sweets from the candy jar, Brigitte. I'm talking about wrongs that could wound all of Germany, and you wouldn't want the enemies to destroy our beloved country, would you?"

"...no...I guess not," she slowly decided, face scrunched in thought. The child was naturally conflicted, but Landa knew that such obstacles could be overcome with time and proper care. She was young, after all, and he needn't fear her trying to slip into his room to murder him in the night. The thought was actually rather comical.

"I know that you're sad about your mother, but you'll feel better soon," he told her. "You're here now, and I'm going to show you to your room in just a few moments, but first, I need to know who gave you this letter and brought you to France. Then we can get to this business of knowing each other. I tell you what, I'll even have the cooks make whatever you want for dinner." The girl perked up at that, but when her eyes shifted back to the letter, she thoughtfully frowned.

"Can I have chocolate pudding?" she probed.

"Natürlich," Landa smiled, highly amused that this girl was negotiating with him. A child making a deal with the Jew Hunter—now there was something that made a chuckle work its way up his throat, making him think that maybe there was more of him in the child than he'd originally thought. He also idly wondered how he would keep her out from underfoot or make this benefit him. He would likely ship her back to Germany to attend school lest she become a liability, but he would take his time in reaching a conclusion concerning this unexpected parenthood. The idea itself was still sinking in, delayed only by his preoccupation with details.

"Chocolate pudding..." the girl repeated, sounding quite pensive for such a silly subject. "I was sent to relatives," she then said, fidgeting. "They gave me the envelope and sent me here. I...I don't think that they liked me very much." Her eyes were downcast, refusing to look at him, which he would not allow. Eye contact had such power over people, whether it be for intimidation, assurance, or expressing any range of nonverbal commands, and so downcast eyes simply would not do.

"Brigitte," he chided, waving a reprimanding finger back and forth in front of her face. "You should look at people when you're talking to them. Good girl. Now, did these relatives send you here all by yourself?"

"Yes."

"Yes?" he disbelieving questioned.

"No," she changed her mind.

"Which one is it: yes or no?"

"Someone came with me, but he left when we got here." There was definitely more to the story than that, but perhaps she would be more forthcoming once she settled in. He would need a few days to deliberate this surprise anyway, and the maid's story would tell him more for the time being. "Can I have some chocolate pudding right now?" Brigitte asked.

"After dinner. We wouldn't want to ruin your appetite. Come and I'll show you your new room." He began leading her out of the study, his pace slowed so that she could keep up with his longer strides, and her travel bag in his hands. Either the relatives had been poor or very stingy to give the child so little, but than again, he didn't believe her story. The Hoffman family that she came from had been exceptionally wealthy, and any close relatives would have had plenty to lavish on the child, some of the leading family figures being key members in the military and even the SS.

"Are you really going to take care of me?" a tiny voice interjected as he stopped in front of the door at the end of the hallway. Looking down, he found the child staring up at him with eyes that nearly overflowed with longing, Brigitte's intense and honest emotion giving Landa pause.

"I wouldn't dream of doing anything else," and he opened the door for her, revealing a room well-suited to a little girl with its smaller size and markedly feminine design. The walls were cream while the bed and curtains were purple, and a miniature vanity sat between two large windows along the opposite wall, the crystals that dangled from several sconces scattering small rainbows across the walls as the sunlight played off of them. The Jewish family that had once owned the home had long since been removed, and their young daughter had called this space her own. How fitting that it should now house a German daughter—the daughter of the family's enemies, but the spoils of war went to the victor.

"This is mine?" Brigitte asked in wonder, removing her shoes to sink toes into the thick carpet, and her fingers grasping the silky material of the bed. "Danke."

"A maid will come to help you get settled in," Landa stated. "Tell her what you'd like the chef to make tonight, and be downstairs at seven pm sharp for dinner. I have work to do, but we can talk later, if you'd like." The girl nodded, preoccupied with walking around her room. "Welcome to your new home, Brigitte."

*************

Please read and review. Also, this story will be about Landa/Adelgiese as much as the relationship between Landa and his daughter. Some might find the pacing of the story a little slow, but I don't like to rush, because plot and characters tend to get unrealistic or flimsy when that happens. I'd rather take time to layer the characters and give context to their interactions rather than suddenly making people attracted to one another or Landa giving a genuine damn about his kid. So please bear with the slow beginning. Every story has to start somewhere, and I don't believe in giving away too much about my OC's at one time. You'll just have to learn more about them and their pasts as the story progresses.

Final Note: If you've never heard Django Reinhardt, shame on you. Go to youtube this instant and listen to 'Georgia on my Mind' as performed by the master of gypsy jazz. Oh yeah!


	3. Chapter 3: L ooking at You

Chapter 3: Looking at You

"Two hallways run through the upstairs of the house," Marlene explained, her French clipped and gruff, which made her new employee strain to understand what was being said. If Adelgiese had been completely honest with Zissel, her French was more suited to basic interaction than detailed descriptions or instructions, but she would gladly keep that to herself, for even the mere appearance of an advantage was worth maintaining. Intending to keep this job as she did, she would take and use what she could get.

"The hallways form a T, and every room needs to be cleaned on a regular basis. Most of them are vacant, but Colonel Landa does keep another officer and three troops in the house. They come and go at odd times, and unless you like to annoy trigger-happy SS, make sure to knock before entering a room. They hate to be interrupted, but then again..." The woman sent a discreet but scathing glance in Adelgiese's direction. "Perhaps someone like you will be more welcomed than the rest of us, Fraulein Hoffman."

"You may call me Del," Adelgiese offered. There could be no harm in attempting to make peace with the woman, and annoyed by the other's presumptuous behavior or not, she wasn't about to needlessly aggravate an already tense situation. Perhaps, with a little time...

"There isn't room for you to stay here in the house, _Del_." Then again, she didn't like the way that her nickname sounded on this woman's tongue. "You'll need to make arrangements elsewhere, and I expect you to be here every morning at seven am to help serve breakfast. If you're tardy even once, your work load gets doubled. Clear enough, German?"

"Oui," Adelgiese answered, staring into the closet that Marlene had just opened. They were in the back of the house, beside the kitchen, where there was a small room in which the staff ate and stored belongings and cleaning supplies. She was now staring at a collection of brooms, mops, buckets, dusters, and rags, all of which were arranged in the closet with careful precision.

"These are your tools, and I'll assign your tasks by the day," Marlene explained. "Try not to make our lives more difficult than they already are since you must be here." Adelgiese didn't catch every word, but she more than understood the gist of Marlene's comments, and paired with the woman's earlier behavior, she felt her long-suffering silence begin to weaken. It had been directly after leaving Zissel's office that she'd been left sitting in this room while Marlene attended to 'more important things', as if making someone wait in an attempt to prove some spiteful point was important. Either way, Adelgiese had been forced to fetch Brigitte and bring her inside for fear of leaving the girl alone in a foreign place for too long. She'd prepared herself to face Marlene's wrath for wandering off in the aftermath, but the woman hadn't even returned in time to catch her absence.

"Marlene," Adelgiese began, fighting for the correct French words. "You are unhappy. I know, but we're working together, so this could be easier." The older woman scoffed as if denying that claim, but Adelgiese was being perfectly honest. She did not prefer working in an environment where her coworkers might try to make her job more difficult, for she'd been down that road before, but based on Marlene's reaction to her suggestion, amends were about to be bypassed in favor of drawing a line in the sand. In truth, she couldn't have cared less if the staff liked her or not, but they could at least get along well enough to not openly insult one another.

"You're a German in an occupied country," Marlene stated, as if that explained everything.

"I'm also a woman, a daughter, and a person," Adelgiese cooly replied.

"And?" Marlene pressed. "Can you bring back the family that was murdered so that you Germans could live in this house? Did you hear the children scream for help? No, I didn't think so. Save your attempt at friendship for people who want it." Adelgiese immediately wondered if the family had been Jewish, for German officers were in the habit of living in civilian homes, but not kicking the family out, and certainly not murdering them. She would have liked to say that the news shocked her, but it didn't, for which she quietly held her tongue rather than contesting Marlene's harshness. There was nothing to say anyway, especially when the woman's anger was justified, and Adelgiese could not help but imagine the family being removed. Had they been executed separately or together? She didn't want to know, and in the end, there was nothing that she could do about it.

"Marlene," a man's voice interrupted them, and Adelgiese turned around to see the same man who had taken Brigitte to Landa. Her eyes automatically went to the large scar on his left cheek, for it was the most prominent feature of his plain face, the pale gash stretching from the corner of his left eye to his jaw. With soft, grey eyes and sandy, brown hair, he looked nothing like someone who would murder a mother while her child watched, but one could never tell with these SS men. "Is this is the new maid?" he questioned.

"Oui."

"Come with me, Mademoiselle..."

"Hoffman," she supplied, having no fear of using her real name. After all, there were plenty of Hoffmans in Germany, and she'd been disowned before Elfriede's affair with Landa, so there was no reason for the man to know of her, especially since she'd been expunged from the family records, legal, personal and otherwise. Her father had literally forbidden anyone to speak of her, and all photos of her had been removed, or so Elfriede had once written her. Landa should therefore know nothing of her existence and have no reason to examine the past of a common maid, which was the way that she intended for it to remain lest he unveil certain incidents that would not bode well for her.

_And if he does order detailed investigations of his staff? _

"The colonel wishes to speak with you," the man with the scar was saying in French.

_I'll take my chances. Explaining exile and covering up the rest will be easier than explaining a totally fabricated identity._

"Bitte," Adelgiese offered. "Wir können Deutsch sprechen."

"Ich habe das gedacht," the man nodded, switching to German and sounding pleased. "It's nice to see a friendly face on the staff. This way, Fraulein." She followed him, her suitcase still in hand since she did not trust leaving it unattended, and her mind piecing together everything that she had heard about the colonel. In the end, there was not much of which she approved, and she was incredibly wary given one particular detail that her sister had written to her so long ago: "_He's more charming and dangerous than any man that I've met, and when he looks at you, it's like he knows exactly what you most try to hide. I don't mean a casual glance, but a deep, hard look, as if he's studying you. You don't want him to study you. I'm a fool, sister. I should have known never to trust a man like that." _

Suddenly Adelgiese found herself standing at the edge of a study, the aide holding the door open for her as she stepped inside. She wasn't entirely sure what to expect as her heels clacked against the wooden floor, the sound much too loud in this quiet room, and her eyes quickly focusing on the man sitting behind the large desk to her right. Was this Hans Landa? He did not look like the seducer of women that her sister claimed, even if he did strike a handsome image sitting there in his uniform, short blond hair parted on the left and combed sideways. She would guess that he was in his mid to late forties, for a few faint lines underscored his eyes, even if his easy posture made him seem younger than that. His brown eyes immediately found hers, beckoning her closer as the door was shut behind her, the latch clicking shut with finality.

"And you must be the new maid that Herr Zissel hired," the man spoke in French. For some reason Adelgiese had expected his voice to be lower, but it was actually a smooth tenor that somehow suited him better than what she'd imagined. She also noticed that the end his nose was slightly bulbous, but with the way that he smiled, she was sure that hardly anyone noticed, too distracted as they would be by his understated attractiveness and commanding presence.

"Yes, sir," she answered him, walking forward until she only stood a few feet from his desk. "I was hired this morning."

"And you're German," he stated, despite the fact that she'd answered his queries in French. "Welcome to my humble abode," he continued, wearing the same smile as before and gesturing around the room. "Your name please."

"Adelgiese Hoffman," she spoke, and for a moment, she was sure that his smooth behavior and smile froze, but it was gone so quickly that she must have imagined it. "I'm from Frankfurt, sir. I've been in this business for a long time, and could not pass up the opportunity to work for someone of your stature. Living in France has actually long been a dream of mine, but...anyway, sir, I'm pleased to be here." Landa leaned back in his chair, eyes never leaving her face, and she found holding his gaze easier than she would have imagined given Elfriede's words.

"Adelgiese," he mused, as if tasting the name, turning it over slowly in his mouth. "An old name, but I find older names with history to be quite fetching." His eyes briefly traveled her body, stopping at her red heels, which seemed to amuse him. "Those look a little inappropriate for cleaning," he teased.

"Oh. Well," Adelgiese looked down, smiling despite her reserves concerning the man. "I wanted to look presentable, sir. Based on your position, I'm sure that you have high standards for interviewees. I don't like to disappoint." He said nothing, but made a faint humming noise in the back of his throat, sitting forward with a curious expression.

"I hear that you found the girl, Brigitte. Where and when exactly did this happen?"

"I was waiting for Marlene to give me a tour of the house when I saw the girl walking about outside. I approached her, and she said that she was looking for you, sir, so I brought her inside." _Keep it simple_, she reminded herself. _Not overly friendly, but not overly formal. Sound natural. _

"There was no one else with her?" he pressed.

"Not a soul." He seemed to consider her words for a moment, and then, with a smile, shrugged and sat up straighter.

"Very well. Thank you for your help, Fraulein Hoffman. If any details come to mind, do let me know, and it's a pleasure to have such a beautiful woman in the house. I don't suppose that Zissel spoke to of you about work beyond the normal cleaning, did he?"

"He might have mentioned something, sir," Adelgiese replied, eyes thoughtfully fixed on the point between Landa's eyes rather than the eyes themselves. In general, she preferred to think before speaking, but the longer she stood in this man's presence, the more her tongue wished to speak freely. His pleasant countenance encouraged her to do so, and he certainly seemed to have a sense of humor, but for those very reasons, she found herself increasingly watchful. He was making her too comfortable too quickly considering the fact that he ordered countless deaths, including that of her sister. The fact that his smile seemed to negate the cruelty that such actions would require gave her pause.

"And you were not adverse to any of his suggestions?" Landa probed, brown eyes glistening as he relaxed back into his chair.

"That depends on what you think said suggestions were," Adelgiese replied, suddenly wondering if they were thinking along the same lines. "If it has to do with my ears, then I readily agree, but no other part of my body is up for auction, Herr Oberst." Polite as she was, a harder edge crept into her voice with the latter part of her comment, and Landa actually chuckled.

"You may go now, Fraulein Hoffman," he dismissed. "I believe that we understand one another perfectly. Bis bald." He was already back to studying the papers on his desk, so Adelgiese only offered a quick goodbye and walked away, refusing to turn around as she sensed his gaze on her back. It drifted over her hair and dress, the sensation slightly discomforting when his smile wasn't insight to temper the easy intensity that seemed to surround him.

_"When he looks at you..." _

There was no way that Landa was as intuitive and penetrating as her sister had implied, for Adelgiese had never met anyone who could ferret out her secrets without her permission. The colonel might have a strong presence, but that did not mean that he saw anything more to her than a newly hired maid, so she shouldn't allow his gaze to agitate her. Perhaps the rumors and her sister's words had imparted more threat to the man's mannerisms than they warranted, and yet, Adelgiese sensed that if she ever attempted to cross Landa, she would regret it more than she could possibly imagine. Remembering his gaze on her back, she wondered who had a more accurate picture of the man: herself or her dead sibling.

***************

"You can't catch me!" Brigitte was running through the upstairs hallway, hands in the air and bubbling with laughter as Adelgiese's arms suddenly ensnared her from behind.

"What were you saying?" the woman asked as she lifted the girl bridal style and twirled her in a circle. Laughter ringing through the hall, and the long skirt of her maid's outfit spinning in a whirl of blue around them, life seemed simpler than it actually was. It had been a little over a week since they'd arrived in Landa's home, and Adelgiese was relieved to see that her decision to come here appeared to be paying off. A private tutor handled Brigitte's lessons, and Landa saw that the girl was physically provided for as well, creating a comfortable environment that was helping heal the child's tragic wounds. Plus, Adelgiese got ample time with her niece since the officers were often out in the city or working behind closed doors, Landa himself being a frequent sight only in the evenings. Sometimes he didn't even return until Adelgiese had long since left for her small apartment.

"Del," Brigitte pretended to whine, her ploy failing miserably since she was still laughing. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance, you little monster," Adelgiese replied. "You spilled my mopping bucket." Oh, it was good to see the girl laugh, and so long as Brigitte remembered certain rules, they would be fine. The first rule was that Adelgiese was addressed as Del and never aunt. The second was that they could be as informal as they wanted when the officers were away, but less familiar when the house was full, and that meant that the past could not be discussed openly within anyone's earshot. And rule three, which was the most important, was that if asked, Brigitte had only met Adelgiese once she'd come to France. That the two of them got along by nature was no secret to anyone, but for all intents and purposes, that gave nothing away in and of itself, especially since Brigitte could not speak with the other staff members due to her lack of French. If Adelgiese weren't present, the girl would be unbearably isolated, and everyone who bothered to pay attention knew it.

"Schneller, Del!" Brigitte yelped, face flushed with laughter, and her shriller voice mixing with the flitting, ringing laughter of her aunt. It was music to Adelgiese's ears.

"I thought that I heard giggling," a smooth voice suddenly spoke, interrupting the playful mood of aunt and niece. "A pleasant distraction, true, but I must ask the two of you to keep your games downstairs. I have a lot of work to finish, and am pressed for time."

_Landa... _

Adelgiese stopped her spinning to see the man smoking a cigarette in the hallway, and she only then realized how close to his study they were. He didn't look angry, but his words offered no room for argument as she set Brigitte on the floor and told her to run along downstairs. It was rare for her to see or speak with Landa in the daytime like this, and even during the evenings, she might deliver a drink or meal to him, but nothing more. She could still remember the first time that Marlene had sent her upstairs with coffee, three days ago...

_"Guten Abend, Fraulein Hoffman," Landa greeted with his trademark smile, but she was distracted by an ink smear on his right cheek. "I was expecting the other maid, but this is a pleasant surprise nonetheless."_

_ "Marlene wanted to spare 'her girl' the trouble," Adelgiese offered with her own smile. "Where would you like your coffee, sir?" He motioned toward the coffee table before the couch, and then leaned back in his chair. He'd been in here all day, working on something, and she had no idea what._

_ "Ah, our dear Marlene is such a charmer, no?" he chuckled. "Danke. I'm sure that the coffee will taste better since it's been delivered by someone who doesn't want me dead." What a morbid sense of humor, and it only sounded more morbid since he was so happily animated when he said it. "Unless, of course, you do want me dead," he qualified. "The taste will tell." Adelgiese paused, looking at him with a questioning expression due to the apparent seriousness of his comment. "I was only joking, Fraulein. Have a pleasant evening."_

_ "You too, sir," she offered. "And the ink's a fitting look, by the way."_

They often exchanged a few such words when she brought him something, but except for those spontaneously moments, Landa was more of a distant presence in the house, which was what she had expected. After all, men of stature did not regularly expend much time on household staff, and she could see that Landa was an incredibly busy man, conversational as he was when they bumped into one another.

"Guten Tag, Herr Oberst," she greeted. "I apologize for distracting you."

"There's no need to apologize," Landa assured, giving her one of his sleek smiles. "I don't hear much laughter in this house, and certainly not giggling. The day that one of my men giggles is the day that I retire." His seemingly pleasant manner never ceased to make her puzzle over the man, especially now that she heard of his exploits directly from the locals. Those hands of his were coated in blood, and he was hated throughout Paris—hated with a passion. Cruel, sadistic, manipulative...she'd heard countless words used to describe him, but no one mentioned how easily his words flowed.

"I should get back to work now, sir," she said, excusing herself. "Have a good day."

"Ein Moment bitte," Landa halted her, ending by taking a long drag from his cigarette. "My intention is not to pry, but I find myself curious. How long did you live in Frankfurt?"

"Most of my life, sir," she answered, meeting his brown eyes and holding them, using her boldness to lend her words credibility. "I went to school in Berlin, but only for four years. I really should get back to work, sir, before Marlene the tyrant comes looking for me."

"DEL!" Brigitte's voice called from downstairs. "Hurry up!"

"You're being summoned," Landa chuckled. Adelgiese tentatively returned his smile and hurried from view, all the while formulating a lecture for Brigitte on not disturbing the colonel when he was working. She thought that everything was going fairly smoothly, for there was nothing to report on the rest of the staff, so no trouble there, and her niece was slowly coming out of her shell. Avoiding Landa kept more serious concerns at bay, but if she thought that Landa was less astute when it came to maids, she was mistaken.

The colonel watched and saw the familiar bond between his new maid and child, and he recognized how quickly the maid had begun spending her free time with his daughter. They'd arrived on the same day, and they were foolish if they thought that he was too distant due to work to not notice the happenings within his own home. Not much escaped the colonel, and where he had questions, he was dedicated to finding answers. After all, there were few records of this woman in Frankfurt, and he prided himself on uncovering the hidden—laying bear the secrets that others tried so desperately to conceal. Besides, there were many people who would gladly murder him, and so he would not allow someone so veiled to work beneath him.

_What game do you play, Fraulein?_

He blew smoke out of his mouth, enjoying the smell and taste of nicotine as he reentered his study. It seemed that he'd found himself a side project to keep him busy while he waited for the latest victim of the Basterds to arrive in Paris for questioning. Nothing excited him more than the thrill of the hunt; nothing that is, except perhaps the kill.

* * *

Well, there's another chapter. I'm not entirely satisfied with how I described Landa, but I tried to do him justice, using my own impressions of his appearance and mannerisms from the film to paint a picture of him. Considering how perfectly he was played, it's hard to capture the energy that Waltz brought to the role in mere words. I can't imagine how someone could read the screenplay dialogue for the 'bingo scene', and turn it into what he did on screen. That said, thanks for your feedback, and I hope that everyone enjoys the update.


	4. Chapter 4: L ingering beneath the Surfac

Chapter 4: Lingering beneath the Surface

"They're going out this evening..." The voice of the French maid was barely audible as Adelgiese approached the kitchen, but she heard enough to be curious, and was therefore careful to still the rattle of cups so precariously balanced on her tray. The scent of alcohol lingered in the glasses, which were leftover from Zissel having invited several friends over for a night of cards.

"All of them?" Marlene's voice probingly asked.

For a moment, Adelgiese considered turning around and acting as if she hadn't heard a single word, and yet, she continued walking. She had heard only harmless things to report to Zissel thus far, and she preferred it that way, knowing that the maids had every reason to express distaste toward their conquerers, but this sounded far more serious than their usual gossip and disparagement. Proceeding was neither favorable nor optional then, but Adelgiese quickly rejected apologetic excuses, for she had no particular reason to protect these people, especially if they were involved in activities that might trap herself or Brigitte in crossfire. A realistic threat would be reported to Zissel, but otherwise, the staff could talk about the location of the infamous Basterds for all she cared, and she'd never say a word to anyone.

"I don't trust this," Marlene hissed. "Someone is always watching. It's too risky."

"But Mama Marlene," a higher, more feminine voice countered. "He's getting worse by the day, and.." Adelgiese could hear them nearing the kitchen door that blocked her from view, and since the prospect of being caught eavesdropping did not appeal to her, she loudly jostled her tray.

"Could someone please open the door?" she called. There was a pause in which the kitchen was silent, and then the door opened to reveal Marlene with a stern but otherwise blank expression. It was the look that Adelgiese had come to expect from the woman, and so it meant nothing to her as she stepped inside and set her load down beside a large sink. Her long hair hid the others from view as she turned on the tap and began washing glasses, but she knew that they were watching her; all of them were: Pierre the chef, Marlene the boss, Old Guy the gardener, and Elle, the other maid.

The smell of baking bread permeated the kitchen, and Pierre's knife was working against a cutting board, chopping peppers as he began preparations for lunch. His cooking was as impeccable as the precise movements of his blade, and even though the staff didn't like her, Adelgiese was grateful that they at least fed her as they did everyone else in the house, for after the SS men were served, the staff were each given a helping. She rarely conversed with the others during these meal breaks, but she did eat in the sitting room with them, enjoying the food that Pierre claimed was only provided in recognition of her strong work ethic. Nothing personal then, which was fine by her. She did, however, wonder what the cook did with the extra meal that he always prepared, for he was obsessive when it came to not wasting food. No one ever got a second helping from him, but there was always that extra meal, every single day, and Adelgiese swore that it disappeared whenever she wasn't looking.

"Did you clean the entire room?" Marlene asked, keeping to business as usual. Ignoring her underlying attitude, the woman was actually rather professional in how she treated Adelgiese, as was Pierre and Guy, but the other one was a different matter entirely.

"Oui," Adelgiese answered. "It is clean." She straightened from her task to roll her shoulders, which were stiff from bending over, and in doing so caught sight of Elle, the aforementioned 'other one'. This maid was younger than herself (perhaps late twenties), with dirty-blond hair that naturally curled as it spiraled out of a ponytail, and Adelgiese recognized in her someone who would be pleasant company if nationality didn't divide the staff. The laughter and banter that the blond maid regularly shared with Pierre was not to be extended to the German.

"Did the men thank you for cleaning?" Elle asked, sounding a tad bitter. "They never thank me."

"Most officers don't thank maids," Adelgiese replied, knowing that her French left much to be desired. "I'm someone to clean, not thank."

"Trust me; they notice you," Elle asserted. "You and your beautiful, dark hair. Schneider likes to look, but not at French maids."

"Vanity does not suit you, Elle," Pierre suddenly spoke, his cutting knife pausing as he selected several tomatoes. "You would not be happy if the officers thought you pretty, so don't complain. They are German. Think nothing of who they like, so long as they keep to their own kind." Adelgiese returned to washing glasses, letting the insults fly over her head as she created a lather using a rag and a white bar of soap. The soap smelled of peppermint and reminded her of the bars that she'd once run along the edges of her father's bedside drawer to make it slide open with ease while his back was turned.

"I need peppers," Pierre told Marlene, the staff now ignoring Adelgiese, but today there was something that she intended to talk about.

"Did they really kill a maid in the house?" she asked, causing the room to descend into tense silence. "Herr Zissel mentioned it. I hope that it's a lie."

"Why?" Elle spat. "They also murdered the family that lived here. Only one person escaped, so what difference does one maid make?" Marlene made a low sound in her throat, and Adelgiese felt the unspoken communication going on behind her back—the thrown glances and frowning mouths, the language of insiders as Adelgiese lingered on the outside.

"It's true," Marlene finally spoke. "She was strangled in the parlor." Then, changing the subject: "Clean the girl's room when you are finished here."

"Oui," came Adelgiese's response, and she suddenly felt as if that single word encompassed almost all of her interaction with Marlene. Oui this, oui that. She would start saying oui in her sleep before long.

"The family was Jewish," Elle coldly stated, ignoring a hard look from Marlene. "But Jews are just cattle to Germans."

"Elle," Marlene barked. "Get off of that counter and go buy vegetables for Pierre like you're suppose to." Adelgiese's hands continued running over the glasses, the last of which were almost clean. She only had to rinse them now.

"Did you ever--?"

"_Now_, Elle," Marlene again interrupted, her rough voice suddenly comparably to Landa's in strength and command.

"Did you ever kill for Deutschland?" Elle barreled onward. "Kill a Jew for the fatherland?"

_Skrrrk_.

The tap water was shut off with a sharp jerk, and then Adelgiese turned, hands slowly wiping themselves on a towel as she did so. Insults she could ignore, and perhaps even this remark given Elle's somewhat impulsive nature, but she was not amused as she stared at the other maid, face sterner than the others had ever seen.

"Not all Germans hate Jews," she stated, voice devoid of warmth and making the younger woman swallow uncomfortably. "And it is _none_ of your business." Folding the towel, she set it on the counter and passed the others without another glance.

****************

It was the perfect evening for going out, the spring air refreshingly cool and Paris humming with excitement despite its occupation. There was danger in the night, true, but as far as Hans Landa was concerned, that only made it more attractive, and Paris possessed a most becoming aura of violence and charm, vigilantes in the shadows, but couples strolling arm-in-arm—French collaborators hanging adoringly on the lips of German soldiers, who acted as though they were on vacation on nights like this, and other men being interrogated behind the closed doors of nondescript buildings. Landa breathed in that energy as he ascended the stairs to a rooftop bar where he and his men were waiting for their appointed hour to arrive, and knew that tonight was going to be anything but disappointing.

"Guten Abend, Herr Oberst," Schneider greeted, raising a mug of beer in a mock salute.

"Guten Abend, major," Landa returned, eyes quickly taking in the bar and the small clusters of SS men that sat about the room. There were about fourteen men in all, most of them lower ranking troops being used for muscle, and only one officer of importance besides himself, that being Major Schneider, who sat with another man in a corner beside the balcony. Technically, this other man should not have been sitting with an officer, but Hermann had been with Landa for a long time, completing necessary but mundane tasks that had proven the man efficient if nothing else. He would help direct the men over radio tonight.

"Hermann," Landa simply greeted, seating himself and pulling out a cigarette. "Is everyone here?"

"Jawohl," Schneider answered. "And everyone is limited to one drink."

"Wunderbar," Landa replied, breathing smoke and turning to ask the bartender to bring him a glass of white wine. He was in the mood for something a tad sweeter than red tonight, and with the anticipation of an almost-launched mission hanging in the background, he found himself amiable to conversation. He was, after all, in high spirits concerning the course of action that would begin in less than two hours, and little pleased him more than seeing an investigation brought to a satisfying close. It was intoxicating really—better than the smoke filling his lungs or the caress of a woman, and making the wine taste sweeter as a it washed over his tongue.

His men were divided into two groups for this operation, which was simple enough really. Group Eins was going to leave here acting drunk, and so help him, if any of them actually got tipsy and jeopardized his plans, he would personally string them up by their balls. He had a near spotless record when it came to assignments, which was why he liked to handpick the men that served beneath him, but tonight the group was larger than usual given speculation on the size of the enemy force. He'd been advised to use more men than he already was, but smaller operations were always better in his opinion, for they gave him more control over a situation.

"You're in a good mood, colonel," Schneider knowingly commented.

"Let's ensure that it stays that way," Landa smirked with a dangerous edge. "A toast, gentlemen, to winning: my only vice. Prost."

"Prost," the other two repeated, and each downed their drink, the alcohol warming them nicely, and the stars twinkling above them, but not nearly as brightly as the lights of Paris. Mankind was once again outdoing nature at its own game.

"If winning is your vice, colonel, it's a rare vice that benefits an entire country," Hermann offered, soft-spoken, proper, and obedient as he always was around his superior. He was easy to direct and control, but not nearly as useful as Schneider, who frequently took matters into his own hands when Landa was not around to supply orders. Now Landa merely smiled, his glass empty and the hour moving too slowly for his liking. Then again, these lingering moments before the strike were tantalizing in their own way, supplying a heady feeling that sped one's anticipation.

"Every man has at least one vice," Landa stated. "If I must have one, it's going to be a useful one, but alas, I suppose that I smoke as well. Smoking," he mused with a lazy smile, "the vice of the sophisticated man. I daresay that when officers get together, the entire room is clouded with tobacco, and everyone who doesn't wish to smoke does so anyway since they already have to endure the smell."

"And what about women, sir?" Schneider subtly smiled, the bar's atmosphere softening his usually stark demeanor. "That's a vice worth having, and your reputation's well known." Landa's smile broadened, the man fully aware of his womanizing reputation, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Making a woman bend to his will was a pleasant distraction from work, and it made attending certain tedious meetings and parties more interesting. Women simply could not resist his silver tongue, and their resistance crumbled even further when he wore his uniform with its many decorations.

"Ah, women," he beamed, blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. "I find enjoyment in them, yes, but that does not make them a vice, major. A vice is something that compels a man to act, overriding his reason and so natural to his selfish nature that sometimes he doesn't even think to resist it. Women are not something that I count as a vice, and they never will be. You, Major Schneider, give women too much influence over your life, but then again," he happily shrugged, "a man is free to choose is own weaknesses. 'To each his own,' as they say in English."

"I happen to enjoy my vice," Schneider replied, completely ignoring the wedding band on his left hand. "The new maid is rather tempting, but she doesn't have any interest in me. She barely spares me a glance."

"Schade," Hermann smiled.

"There are plenty of other women," Schneider shot back. "But Adelgiese's a real beauty. She must be in her mid-thirties, but between her and that younger, French maid, I'd pick her every time. Long legs, hips, blue eyes like sapphires..." Landa quietly listened, mind fixed on the woman who'd recently joined his household staff. She was indeed as beautiful as Schneider professed, her slender build feminine and graceful, and her fine features emphasized by bright eyes cast against dark hair that spilled down her back in thick waves. It was a rare woman in his experience that could look as attractive as she did in her natural state, devoid of makeup as she chose to be, and her clothing consisting of the simplest dresses given her station. That honest beauty and the confident way in which she held herself had immediately drawn his attention, and when she mopped the main entrance of the house, she sometimes spun on her toes in a manner as graceful as a waltz.

"She's a bit of a mystery, isn't she, Herr Oberst?" Schneider was asking. "She just popped out of the sky, and now Zissel claims that she's exactly what he needs to uncover any scheming among the staff. He's convinced that they're all plotting to murder us."

"I too find Fraulein Hoffman very interesting, but I've always had an eye for beauty," Landa commented, the words sliding from his mouth as he continued to reflect on his new maid. The woman had been in Frankfurt for several years, as she both claimed and other officers who'd hired her could confirm, but there was no birth record of an Adelgiese Hoffman—no direct and traceable ties to any Hoffmans in Frankfurt as it were, and certainly no mention of her until she would have already been an adult. He could confirm that she'd attended school in Berlin, but most of his information was merely a result of checking her resume, and he knew nothing of her except school in Berlin prior to 1937. Any information beyond that date pertained to employment, and without that oddly absent birth record, he didn't even have a concrete family to attach her to.

"In fact," he slowly enunciated. "I find myself so enchanted by our beautiful maid that I intend to find out as much about her as possible." Schneider's smile slipped, face becoming less expressive with the threatening weight behind his superior's words, and Landa met his subordinate' eyes for but a second, as if to confirm that his attentions toward the woman did not stem from sexual interest, before the matter dissolved into nothing. Landa knew that his new maid was deceitful, but what he did not know was whether she represented a danger or not. Only more digging would tell, and he already had someone in Germany gathering as much information about her as possible.

"One more hour," Hermann noted, time marching ever onward.

_Soon_, Landa thought, a familiar, almost giddy feeling infecting him.

*************

They stood in the darkness, cloaked by night and their dark uniforms, and weapons in hand as all ears tuned to the radio in Landa's hand. The colonel breathed deeply as they waited behind one warehouse in a series of many, his brown eyes staring down the narrow alley that they occupied, and ears aware of the rats that lurked beyond his sight. The current silence belied both what was to come and the fact that only a few buildings down, Free French were constructing homemade bombs. The promise of catching them in the act danced across Landa's mind as the radio finally crackled.

"Alles ordnung?" he asked.

"Jawohl," Hermann answered. "Gruppe Eins geht. You can advance." Group one would be loudly playing their part then, acting jovial as they laughed at and jostled one another along the riverfront, or so Landa imagined, for he could not hear them from here. He was counting on the commotion to draw the enemy's attention away from the rear of the warehouse, and any watchdogs that remained would be quickly dispatched to avoid detection.

"Move out," he ordered. "Schnell." His men did as bidden, quietly advancing through the alley, himself among them as the targeted building came into sight. He held up a fist and the line slowed, Group Eins' racket clearly audible as he noted two entrances on the back of the old, rusted building—a leftover from a French clothing company that had seen better days. He wordlessly split the group and pointed them toward the doors, the men doing as directed while Schneider set himself up behind a half-collapsed crate, his rifle resting across the wood. Anyone who tried to escape would be killed without comment, and Landa did expect some of the enemy to run given their civilian nature.

The men stood against the wall on either side of the doors, merely waiting for him to give the go-ahead, and after a few seconds, he nodded, signally their entry, which was fast and forceful. Germans sang a drinking song on the other side of the building, and the remainder swept the back rooms of the building, Landa trailing after them, listening to the stifled screams that attempted to tear free from the few remaining guards as their throats slit. His eyes dispassionately swept over the warm corpses with their gaping mouths and bloody halos, a small smile creasing his lips as he recognized one of the fallen men. Yes, he'd been looking for that one for weeks—the boy who'd escaped the SD by beating his guard's head in with a chair leg.

_I knew that I'd get him eventually_, he happily noted.

"Sir," one of his men whispered. "There's a large room up ahead. I saw seven men, all on the ground level, working on explosives, but I'm sure there are more in the loft."

"Head upstairs," Landa ordered. "Open fire and kill or disarm anyone that you find, but do keep at least one alive for me to question."

"Yes, sir." Once his men were upstairs killing the rest of the guards, there would be no point in hiding their presence, and so Group Eins would enter through the front to take care of the men on the ground level. Landa loved when a plan came together, and all of this men had already been lectured on the importance of capturing the ringleader, Red Cap, alive. The man shouldn't be terribly hard to identify since his name came from the red hat that he constantly wore. Landa would be sorely annoyed if the man got himself killed by playing martyr. What a pointless way to die, and one that would deprive him of a completely satisfactory victory.

"Where are you, my hat wearing nemesis?" he spoke softly to himself, drawing his handgun and advancing on a metal door. He carefully opened it by the smallest of cracks, and his vision fixed on the large room beyond and the men crouched some distance away, illuminated as they were only by the soft light of several lanterns. He could see them mixing chemicals that he intended to trace back to the original source, the hands of his enemies likely uneasy due to the Germans outside. He could hear a radio that wasn't his crackling in the near darkness of the factory.

"Don't worry about the company out front," a man spoke in French over the poor reception. "They're just drunk and fooling around. Keep working."

_So easily tricked_, Landa smiled, and as if on cue, gunfire erupted overheard and yelling with it. He glanced upward to see sparks lighting the darkness as bullets glanced off of the metal rafters and walkways that crisscrossed over the factory's ground level. Someone screamed, and a body fell from above, the men who'd been making bombs jumping to their feet and scrambling to find cover, but it was too late.

Landa's pulse quickened as the remainder of his men burst into the building from the front, machine guns sweeping across the floor and catching most of the bomb-makers by surprise while their brethren fought above. Above—that's where the Red Cap had to be, and Landa began moving in that direction, safe from friendly fire in these back rooms, and radioing their success to Hermann.

"Tell HQ that we've finished here and will return shortly," he stated.

_Clank_.

Landa stopped and pivoted, gun raised as he stared into the darkness behind him, finger resting easily against the trigger. Then a figure holding a lantern burst into sight, the man's frantic body movements grinding to a halt when he noticed a body near his feet.

"Wrong way," Landa announced, firing but unsure as to whether he'd hit his target as the man ran away. More shots left his gun as he gave pursuit, heart pounding as he dodged factory debris and kept his sight set on the bobbing light ahead, his footfalls echoing loudly in the metal corridors. Then, with a final blast of his pistol, the man stumbled and the lantern fell to the floor, rolling to the side as Landa closed in on his fallen prey.

"Fils de salope!" the man yelled, teeth gritted together in pain as Landa stood over him, one boot landing heavily on the entry wound in the Frenchman's right shoulder. The man groaned in response and squirmed beneath the colonel's sole, making a more primal part of Landa's brain ignite as he stared down at the frightened man. The wide eyes and futile attempts of this prisoner to struggle free infused him with a sense of power and control that ran through his veins like a drug, making him press down harder on the wound. He held the power of life and death over this man laying prone before him, and there was nothing like that in the entire world. It was supreme control—a testament to the inability of his targets to escape him.

"Herr Oberst," his radio crackled.

"Was?"

"Wir haben den roten Hut."

"Mission accomplished," Landa stated in French. "Unfortunately, my friend, that makes you expendable. Au revoir" His gun fired once, and then the man was dead, Landa stepping away quickly to avoid getting more blood on his boots. The buzz of the operation was already wearing off, and his composure was returning in full force, a deep part of him sated for the evening. As far as he was concerned, his men could handle most of the more violent and physically strenuous work, himself being more a man of words and negotiation, but sometimes...

He looked down at the corpse bleeding across the floor, red mixing with rusty brown in the dim light, and decided that hands-on work could occasionally be very gratifying, feeding that unnamed part of him that most men buried. Seeing the life fade from another's eyes due to his hand embodied reality's mechanics with perfection, and in that game, it was always better to be the one pointing the gun.

**************

The household was already fast asleep when Landa arrived home later that evening, his path aiming directly for his study, where he planned to unwind before going to bed. He let himself into the room and turned on the lights, mind centered on the bar and having a drink when a soft mumble caught his attention. Head swiveling toward the sound, he began walking toward the couch, moving around it to find a fluffy bundle snuggled into the leather. There, head poking out of a thick, purple bedspread was Brigitte, blue eyes tired and dazed as she stared up at him.

"Hallo," she yawned, blond hair tousled and messy.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Landa asked, ready for bed himself after a long day, and in no mood to bother with flowery words as he stared at his daughter. She was his daughter, wasn't she? He was a father now, and his child was living in this very house, even if he felt nothing particularly special toward the girl. She was, after all, only a blood relation, which meant nothing in the way of sentiment. He would protect her, of course, because she was his, and she _was_ rather adorable when her eyes were hooded and she mumbled like that. Unlike others, she had no sense of his dangerous personality, and there was an utter innocence about her that he found interesting considering that she came from his loins. Where he so often destroyed in the name of advancing himself, here he'd created something.

"There were funny noises," Brigitte told him as he took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the couch. "Aunty wasn't here to make them stop, so I couldn't sleep. I don't know what's making the noise, but whatever it is, it's scary. Something could eat me. It sounded like this: grrrmhph." Landa tossed aside his tie and began unbuttoning the top of his shirt as the girl sat up, small hands rubbing her eyes. How interesting that the child should refer to an aunt since Elfriede didn't have a sister.

"And what does 'aunty' do to make the monsters go away?" he asked.

"She tells them that if they touch me, she'll spank them." Landa chuckled, bending over to pick the girl up, and keeping her wrapped in the blanket as he carried her toward the door. He did not want company right now, and he didn't want Brigitte in the habit of barging into his workspace either. To bed it was then, and she surprised him by wrapping arms around his neck as he carried her, so trusting of him when they'd only known each other for two weeks. She also touched him in a way that was sincere and asked for nothing, which was not something to which he was accustomed.

"Are you going to make them go away?" she asked.

"I don't need to," he told her. "This is my home, and everyone knows that if they touch you, I'll hunt them down. That's what your father does, Brigitte; he finds people who cause problems, and he's very, very good at it." The girl's eyes were less hooded now, her dazed, half-asleep state wearing off as they talked, and several of her fingers began to unconsciously play with the hair at the base of his neck.

"Del says that you're an investigator," the girl thoughtfully spoke. "She said that the english word is...detective?" Landa stopped before the girl's room, the door of which was not fully closed, and knocked it open with his foot.

"The monsters are gone," he stated.

"You're sure?" Brigitte pressed as they entered her room, Landa depositing her on the bed.

"They won't harm you, my angel," he told her, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Sleep." She obediently closed her eyes, and he left her there, quietly shutting the door and heading back to his study. He'd never tucked a child into bed before, but there was apparently a first time for everything.

******************

I was trying to contrast Landa's predatory, pragmatically wicked personality with the charm and ease with which he handles everyday interactions. I felt that writing him in a setting where he could more openly unleash some of his perversity would add to his character, and I don't want to just show him in a domestic setting like a house. That aside, I promise that more between him and Adelgiese is upcoming. She won't be able to play the perfect maid and avoid him for long. Lol. Thanks in advance for any reviews.


	5. Chapter 5: M asks like Water

Chapter 5: Masks like Water

It was a shitty day for wiping the asses of the enemy—one of those days where the sun seemed to crawl through the sky, and light drizzle kept the air annoyingly rich with moisture. There was a slight chill that was unexpected for late spring, and the effect on the city was quite apparent, for activity was slower than usual, and even stray cats let mice run away as they sat beneath archways and balconies. Marlene had the urge to be equally lazy as she stood by one of the parlor's high windows, the duster in her right hand nearly forgotten as her knuckles ached in protest against work. She'd broken several of the bones in that hand when she'd been much younger, and temperature changes always reminded her of that, the joints grinding unpleasantly in cooler weather.

"Shit weather, shit day," she breathed to herself. She was alone today, Elle and the German being off for a change, and that left more work for her to do, but not so much that her back couldn't handle it. She was incredibly sturdy for her age, and accustomed to the up and down of housework, but there were differences as of late that deepened the displeasure marring her face. Never before had she wished to go over to the grand piano and kick out its legs, but looking at the beautiful, well-loved instrument, she now had that urge. And the serving dishes—don't get her started on the dishes. She could have gladly gone into the kitchen cabinets and smashed every single plate and bowl off of the floor, for seeing Landa and his men dine on porcelain that had once been so cherished by another made her stomach knot in anger.

_You're too old to feel so much_, she thought to herself. _It's not good for your health_.

Green eyes stared at the small raindrops sliding down the window without seeing, her left hand lifting to press against the cool glass. There were some things in life that could not be replaced, and some sins that could not be forgiven. For that, she would allow the anger to remain, and so long as this home played guest to the very men who'd destroyed her hopes for the future, she wouldn't allow herself to rest. She'd dreamed of growing older to the sound of laughter, and of seeing the wrinkles on her face deepen while friends and children grew up, but those dreams were gone now.

"Alle meine Entchen, schwimmen auf dem See, schwimmen auf dem See..." Marlene heard the little girl, Brigitte, singing from the next room, and wondered what the child was up to now. Usually shy and self-contained, the girl was largely left to her own devices whenever the tutor and Adelgiese were not present. Sometimes though, when Marlene was cleaning, the girl would follow along behind her, chattering away in German and eventually wandering off, which gave Marlene the distinct impression that the child hated to be alone. Brigitte was like that: shy when she first met someone, but then warming quickly, or so Marlene had concluded. Schneider and Elle were the only two that the girl seemed to consciously avoid.

"Köpfchen in dem Wasser, Schwänzchen in der Höh. Alle meine Täubchen, gurren auf dem Dach..."

Such a sweet voice, but looking at the blond hair and expressive face, Marlene could only think of the colonel, and the son of a bitch had even put the girl in Lara's old room, as if he knew exactly what raw nerve that would touch in the staff. Then again, perhaps the bastard was cold enough that he hadn't thought twice about it, merely finding it coincidental and convenient to place the girl there. Passionately vile or pragmatically indifferent, Marlene teetered between marking Landa as either, but whichever it was, he was still a miserable excuse of a human being.

"Fliegt eins in die Lüfte, fliegen alle nach. Alle meine Hühner scharren in dem Stroh, scharren in dem Stroh..."

What hellhole had Paris become when children were marked by country and culture and then categorized with soldiers, vigilantes, and enemies of the state to be disposed of if and when the opportunity arose? There had been a large Jewish population in Paris before the SS arrived, and quite a few still remained either in hiding or with false identities, but so many had been lost. There were those who merely wished to survive, and then there were those who prowled the streets looking to lash out at Germans for the wrongs done to their families and friends. To the latter group, Landa's daughter would be seen as an exploitable chance at payback and retribution, and what of the Free French? They would also hear of this girl, but none would ever think of her gentle and lonely lullaby.

"Alle meine Gänschen watscheln durch den Grund, watscheln durch den Grund..."

Marlene didn't know if blood for blood was righteous or hypocritical. She didn't know if using a child to get at a man like Landa made the victims as damned as their persecutors, but she did know that it taught men a lesson written in pain, and it made the enemy experience the same losses that they'd inflicted on others. There was something equitable in that which appealed to her, and so, as Brigitte's voice faded, she knew that she wouldn't prevent anyone from taking or harming that child. The spreading of pain was therapeutic in some twisted sense, and yet, the thought did not make her feel better as she pressed her hand harder against the glass.

For an innocent child to die when the parent might not even give a damn was a tragedy, not a victory, but Marlene felt as cold as the glass beneath her hand as the rain continued to fall.

**************

Adelgiese stood beneath the awning of a flower shop, her long, black coat wrapped about her as she waited for a lull in the rain. The light drizzle had become harder, and she had no umbrella as of yet, so she was stuck for the time being. She'd planned to buy one with her latest paycheck, but had opted for a new jacket instead, and the rest of the money had gone for food and rent. She couldn't complain though, for Landa did pay a decent sum for her services, and she hadn't worn a new coat in what felt like a decade. The fabric was soft against her skin, and it even smelled new, the thick material keeping her warm as she tucked hands into its deep pockets. Now, if only she had some chocolate. She'd almost bought some, but since she was so unaccustomed to having any pocket change, it almost felt wrong to indulge in two things at once.

Allowing herself a small, private smile, she took a step closer to the edge of the awning, cars hurtling by on the street and splashing water against the curb. She had expected to feel more threatened being a German woman alone on the streets of Paris, but there were other Germans around almost every corner, troops carousing the city when off duty as they did, and collaborating police or Wehrmacht security patrolling on a regular basis. She had little fear of being assaulted under such circumstances, and looking at the cars, she knew that the occupants were as likely to wear a swastika on their arm as be a French citizen. For instance, this sleek, black vehicle approaching her looked exactly like something that would transport a German officer.

_It's stopping_, she realized, watching as the car pulled up to the curb. The back wheels stopped directly in front of her, and suddenly the rear door was thrown open, a familiar and unexpected face jarring her out of her relative calm.

"Mademoiselle Hoffman!" a chipper voice greeted. "I thought that it was you."

"Bonjour, Herr Oberst," she automatically responded, the colonel leaning out of the backseat of the car to hold the door open. While he was often out of the house, it had never occurred to her that she might actually run into the man in public.

"Do you need a ride back to the house?" he invitingly asked. "It's foul weather for walking, and the car is quite comfortable. I would know; I chose it myself." Was he really offering her a ride? Adelgiese would not have expected an employer to extend such a courtesy to a common maid, but she was learning that little about Landa was predictable.

"It's my day off, sir," she told him. "I'm not going to the house, and if you don't close that door, your arm is going to be soaked."

"But whether you are going in my direction or not, Fraulein, it would be remiss of me to ignore a lovely woman stranded beneath an awning. If you're so concerned about my arm, you won't keep me waiting much longer." There was a commanding edge to his voice—a low undertone that belied his easy smile—and Adelgiese found herself moving toward the car before she'd even decided to accept his offer. She saw no point in arguing with the man anyway, and she had no desire to seem ungrateful, for like and trust him or not, stepping on someone's toes before she knew that the situation was in her favor seemed utterly idiotic to her. Here, with this man smiling as she slid into the car beside him, she knew that the upper hand was not hers.

"Danke, Herr Oberst," she thanked him, looking into his brown eyes and offering him a smile.

"Think nothing of it," he dismissed. "It's my pleasure, and you are not on duty, so to speak, so you need not address me so formally, Fraulein. Now, where were you heading before you became stranded?" He watched her expectantly, and Adelgiese was amazed that he could convey so much without words, as if orders came from his gestures and eyes rather than his lips. Small wonder that he was so successful at what he did.

"Please, Oberst," she offered. "If you insist on my being informal, than call me 'Del'. Everyone else does, and as for my destination, I was going to the Louvre."

"The Louvre?" Landa asked, eyebrows raised and lips set in a bemused expression. "Not only are you very well-spoken, but you are cultured as well it seems. The Louvre, Hermann," he commanded the driver, and the car began rumbling onward.

"Blame it on my parents," Adelgiese smiled, almost forgetting about the totenkopf on the man's hat. "They drilled manners into me at an early age. The interest in art though—that I claim as my own, but you don't need to drive me to the Louvre, sir. It's out of the way, and you are always so busy. Don't allow me to interfere with your work."

The thought of accepting favors from this man unsettled her, but it was rather flattering for an officer to be catering to her needs, wasn't it? Disturbingly so, and Adelgiese suddenly understood how her sister had fallen for Landa's brown eyes. They watched her with a rapt attention that made her feel as though the colonel saw nothing but her at any given moment, and that paired with his silver tongue was dangerous in ways that made her recoil. The standartenführer certainly had being a gentleman down to perfection.

"You're worried that you'll interfere with my work?" Landa playfully scoffed, sounding amused. "Hardly. But you do realize that the Louvre is mostly empty, don't you? The French so feared that we'd steal their stolen treasures that they whisked them away in the night, and naturally the best of what remained has already been taken to Germany."

"I'm aware," Adelgiese answered. "But I have always wanted to go to the Louvre."

"And look at empty halls?" Landa disbelievingly asked, still amused.

"And set foot somewhere that I've always intended to," she corrected him. "Whether it makes sense or not, Oberst, I have decided to go there, and go I will." He suddenly regarded her with a measuring expression, and she held his gaze for what felt like an eternity before looking out the window at the passing city.

"A woman of determination," Landa mused, still staring at her. "I will not try to deter you further then, Fraulein, or Del rather. I apologize for having made you defensive. Do you mind if I smoke?"

"No, and there's no need for an apology," Adelgiese assured, returning her gaze to him and knowing that his eyes had never left her. If his presence was hard to ignore when she delivered something to his office, it was impossible to do so in the confined space of a car. "I realize that my decision is rather odd, but I can be very stubborn."

"I would not say that your decision is odd," Landa returned, voice serious rather than playful. "You obviously have some personal goal in going to the Louvre, and I'm not a man to denounce pursuing such things, even if the goal is purely symbolic. As for this stubbornness of yours," and his pleasant countenance returned, "I cannot say anything ill about the woman who keeps such a personal watch over my daughter. She's taken to you, and I'm assuming that the feeling is mutual."

"Brigitte has a large heart, sir. It's impossible to not care about a child like that." Although, she did wonder if Landa cared about his daughter with any meaning, for it didn't seem that way. Of course, she had hoped that he wouldn't ingrain himself too deeply in the girl's life, seeing as how he killed and enforced the will of a totalitarian regime for a living, so she couldn't complain. She hadn't brought the girl here hoping that Landa would act like the perfect father.

"The girl is an angel," Landa stated. "And you are right, of course; she has a big heart. It's a shame that not everyone finds that so endearing. Did you know that the girl has an aunt?" Adelgiese's stomach dropped to her feet, her heart picking up speed as she stared at the colonel, but his face and conversational tone gave away nothing.

"An aunt?" she asked. "Brigitte never mentioned having one."

"It's true, but the girl's reluctant to discuss it. I can't blame her either. Apparently she was sent to stay with an aunt after her mother died, but the woman didn't care about a child's big heart."

"And the aunt didn't want her," Adelgiese feigned guessing, voice dropping in thought. "Traurig, sehr traurig." What exactly did Landa know? She found it difficult to believe that a man with Jews to hunt would bother examining the past of a maid who'd obviously proven herself benign given her track record of employers. Not one of the other officers whom she'd worked for had ever checked into her past, but Landa...

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye as she regained her complete composure, nerves calming as she wondered if Brigitte hadn't made an innocent slip of the tongue. Landa was probably only seeing if she knew more about an aunt since the girl trusted her, but part of her whispered of a more dangerous reality. Damn, but this man would knock her off balance every time they spoke if she didn't watch herself.

"And voilá, here we are," he said, gesturing toward the window. "Your beloved Louvre, Fraulein. See, it was not so far, but how will you get home in the rain? I, unfortunately, cannot spare the time to wait for you."

"I'll be very damp, but that's a small price to pay," she smiled, spirits lifting at the sight of a long stretch of perfectly sculpted colonnades. "Danke, Herr Oberst." She opened the door and slid out of the car, rain again light as it sprinkled over her hair, making the edges frizz.

"Bis bald," the colonel farewelled.

"Auf wiedersehen." Adelgiese wondered if she attributed too much ill-intent to his words and actions because of her sympathies concerning his job or simply because she feared him uncovering her secrets. The car moved on, and she ran to stand beneath the colonnades that she'd so admired, the colonel's words ringing in her ears. If he did know more than he let on, he had a strange predilection for toying with people rather than directly addressing a problem, and she had a sinking feeling that her idea was more accurate than desirable. So she turned to watch the car disappear from sight, deciding that there was no such thing as hearing too many meanings in the voice of a man so cunning, and yet, she did not dislike him during their short conversations.

_ If I've survived everything else, I'll survive this man. Play his game of words and confidence, and give him nothing to bite into_. She had, after all, fooled many with her mild mannered personality and quick mind, such skills honed from living in a political family and then surviving on her own. The trick was to assume that the other person always knew more than they let on, and then anticipate the next move and act before they could. It was time to stop relying on being the inconspicuous maid now that she knew how observant Landa was being. Perhaps he'd been trying to set her off balance, but either way, he'd told her more than he intended.

***************

The rain had finally stopped, and before the last drops had slid from the windowpanes, Brigitte was outside in the small, walled yard of her new home. It was actually a large yard for the city, but the girl saw it as small given the country estate from which she hailed. Either way, she adored the carefully arranged flowers that Old Guy tended, and she meandered among the blossoms, hands tapping closed buds as she passed, and her nose occasionally finding its way into a large bloom. This place smelled like home, with damp earth heavy in the air, and the rose bush against the far wall reminding her of mother's perfume.

_Mutti..._

The girl sat down on the stone path between the flowerbeds, completely unconcerned with muddying her dress despite the harsh words that she'd received from Marlene for doing so last week. Unlike the blond maid, Marlene sometimes spoke to her in French, and even though the girl didn't understand the words, she knew a lecture when she heard one. Lectures made her upset. She didn't like them one bit, disliking them almost as much as she disliked the man with the scar. Sometimes he tried to speak with her, but she ran away or kept silent, and the gun that she'd seen strapped inside of his jacket scared her. But why did he look so sad when she ran away? She didn't like that look either. It was the same look that mutti had given her when the black cars came to the house.

"Ich will nach Hause gehen," she pouted, blue eyes moist. "I want to eat gingersnap cookies with Mutti; make snow angels with Onkel Heinrich. I want to go home." Her new father said that this place was home now, but almost everyone talked in French. Where was Aunty Del? What if aunty had left her behind like everyone else had?

Brigitte stood and moved toward the far end of the garden where a small storage shed sat, one of its brick walls covered in morning glories. She liked those flowers best, but they were closed now, so she could only run her fingers through the leaves. Old Guy had laughed at her for coming out one morning to see them bloom, and so she'd decided that he was okay. He smiled at her, but always chased her away from the shed, sometimes shaking his head and offering her a cut flower. He was nicer than all the other French people here. He smiled like a grandpa should smile.

Several tears trickled down Brigitte's cheeks as her hands dropped from the closed flowers, and she suddenly had the urge to run inside and demand that Marlene find Aunty Del, but that name was a secret. Aunty was just Del in front of everyone else, and while it was kind of fun having a secret like that, it was an important secret. If anyone found out, aunty might be sent away, and then who would hug her?

_Aunty would make me feel better if she was here._

"Alle meine Entchen..." she began but stopped, having heard a strange noise. The door to the shed was cracked open, and she moved toward it, curious but scared of wandering into the darkness as she peered through the entrance. "Hallo?" she called, but very quietly, as if afraid that something terrible hid in the dark. There was no answer, and she was about to turn away when she heard the distinct sound of someone softly crying.

"Are you sad too?" she called, but again, there was no answer.

"Mademoiselle Hoffman!" Brigitte scurried away as Old Guy appeared and chased her away from the shed, but not menacingly. To anyone listening, he was lecturing her on staying away from sharp tools, but the French was lost on her, and within seconds, Brigitte was inside and running upstairs, cheeks flushed as she heard laughter that she did not recognize. There, down the hall, was the man with the scar, his lips all over a strange woman's neck as she swatted at him. Was he hurting her that she was trying to hit him? Brigitte wasn't sure as the two adults stumbled through a door and slammed it shut behind them. It seemed that even the scarred man had someone to talk to.

Brigitte began walking toward the study, wondering if her new daddy was home this late in afternoon. He had the prettiest smile, and she loved how his voice sounded. Vielleicht...

"Ist jemand hier?" she asked as she gently opened the door, which was rather heavy and shut quickly as she stepped inside, her shoes leaving a small, wet path across the floor. The balcony doors were open, and the record player was spinning with happy guitar music, making her hopeful as she approached the couch. Through the French doors, she could see her new father sitting on the balcony, his back to her, and smoke rising from his mouth and the pipe in his hand. What a funny, yellow pipe too. She'd never seen one that large.

"Guten Tag," she said as she joined him, plopping down on the floor beside his chair. She leaned against one of his legs, cheek pressed to the gray fabric of his pants, and saying nothing else as she too watched the city below. It seemed to her that there must be plenty of sad people in the world, and like her grandma had always told her to do, she said a silent prayer for those people. At least she still had a daddy, even if everyone else had left.

"Go to your room, Brigitte," Landa commanded, voice distant.

"Aber..." She looked up at him, not wanting to leave so soon, but he didn't look very friendly. "Bitte," she begged. "Just for a little." He said nothing, not even looking at her, and she took that as a yes, so she stayed. She sat and held onto him as the minutes passed, trying to show him how much she wanted to stay through her affectionate touch. She didn't intend to stay as long as she eventually did, but if he didn't chase her off, she wasn't going to leave him.

* * *

One more chapter down, and in the next, Adelgiese gets caught snooping around Landa's study. As always, thank you to those who reviewed/review. I don't always respond to each review, but it's encouraging to hear from my readers.


	6. Chapter 6: E ncounter in Landa's Study

Chapter 6: Encounter in Landa's Study

It was with mixed spirits that Adelgiese entered Landa's home after her day off, the sight of the Louvre having sparked something like peace within her for those few short hours during which she'd enjoyed it. Empty though most of the halls had been, the architecture had been exactly as she'd imagined, her hands having touched the cool stones to bring a bittersweet smile to her lips. She had always wanted to visit the Louvre, but her family had been one to take group trips, and no one else had ever been interested enough in art to schedule the museum into their outings. She'd also had little spare money of her own back then, her father having controlled most of it, and he hadn't wanted his daughter wandering a foreign country without an escort.

_Bullshit_, she thought as she entered the house, for her father had let her go about as she pleased most of the time, and if not, she'd been adept at sneaking out. It was the fact that he'd been trying to force her to accept a young officer's invitation to accompany her to the Louvre that had sparked his sudden protest. Now that mattered not at all, and when she'd left that fine museum with its beautiful but vacant rooms, she'd silently told her dead father that she'd made it despite him. The poor man, limited by pride as he'd been, would somehow always hold her spiteful yet sympathetic heart.

_"He regretted it, sister,"_ she could hear Elfriede saying. "_But you know papa._"

Indeed she had, and so she'd known that she crossed the line of his tolerance the evening that she'd thrown her ring at the officer's head. She'd despised the man for being involved with the brownshirts, who'd made a habit of beating people into submission, and now look at her. She was the ears of a member of the SD, and she didn't even feel the guilt that might be expected for someone of her mindset, but then again, she wasn't doing anything for the man that was terribly distasteful. She was also done trying to change the world with her small hands, having seen the tidal wave coming and failed to do anything but get knocked down by it the last time. Dying for something—that she could understand, but dying and accomplishing nothing by doing so made little sense. It seemed to her that she could only affect what was directly within her grasp, and so she would rattle the die and take chances on that account, but leave grand battles to those who believed in dying for abstract principles.

"Morning," she greeted Pierre as she entered the kitchen. He grunted in reply, and she took that for what it was as she tied an apron about herself and read the note that Marlene had left her. The day sped on from there, her regiment the usual cleaning of rooms and chatting with Brigitte once the girl's lessons were complete. Landa had his daughter learning English and French, so she sometimes inserted English words to help the girl build vocabulary, but otherwise she beat rugs and shined shoes as Brigitte's German filled the air. It was at such times that Adelgiese noticed how fondly the girl was beginning to speak of Landa, and today Brigitte claimed that the man promised to take her to a party next week, und so weiter.

It was later in the day that Adelgiese found herself alone and with little to do, for Brigitte was playing, and certain rooms were off limits for cleaning unless Landa was present, his study being one of them. As usual, he wasn't home at the moment, but she was assigned to his study, and so she stood before those forbidden double doors and pondered her chances. Compared to other risks, entering a study to clean was mild enough, and she _did_ want to know if Landa had any information on her—anything that might give away the extent of his knowledge, and there was a prickling in her hand, telling her to open the door and get on with it.

Of everyone in her family, she'd been the one to sort through father's papers to find out if he'd made plans concerning her without permission yet again. He'd never known either, just as he'd never known that she'd forged his signature for small amounts of Marks from the bank so that she could pay the staff holiday bonuses that he would otherwise deny. Snooping around a study was child's play compared to that, and stealth had always served her well in the past, granting her some control over her life despite a man like her father.

_But this is Landa_, she warned herself. That meant double the caution, but then again, if he walked in, she could always claim that she'd only been cleaning. _Ready the innocent eyes; ensure that he only sees what you want him to see. _And she also felt more capable this time around now that she was prepared to be surprised by Landa's intuitive nature. She would not slip up as she had in the car, finding herself momentarily speechless by his broaching of unexpected topics. He was doing his homework, so she would do hers.

Hands on the door, she pushed them open, stepping inside and turning on the lights. She was alone in his domain—his sacred sanctuary where he retreated after the work and the killing. It felt intrinsically wrong to intrude in such a space, but she dismissed the feeling as she approached his desk, noting that he wrote in different languages as she stopped to look over the maps and loose pieces of paper laid out before her. Being careful to touch nothing, she leaned forward and stared at an English comment written above a small dot in southern France: 'Home run'. She had no idea what that meant as she gingerly tested a drawer on his desk to find it locked. Too bad a bar of soap wouldn't work.

She then moved to the coffee table and lifted a small, green book from the corner, the table's dust all too apparent as she did so, for there was a clear mark where the book had sat. That was easily remedied as she swept the dirt away and then leafed through the book, which contained names and numbers organized into categories such as Luftwaffe, SD, SS Hauptamt, etc. Some of the names were rather prominent and immediately recognizable, but others she'd never heard of, and as she continued to look through categories, she wondered if Landa had contacts in every office in the entire Reich. The man was certainly connected, but she'd expected that given how quickly he located his targets.

"Frankfurt SD," she softly spoke, searching for such an entry and finding it near the book's middle. He did indeed have several names and an office listed under such a heading, but there was no way to know if he'd used those contacts to do a background check on her. Carefully arranging the book back where it'd been, she moved on, her eyes drawn to Landa's book collection. Most were French and likely left over from the previous owners, and their generic titles passed under her gaze but for a thick volume that caught her attention, for there was no title on its spine. Lifting it free, she discovered it to be a photo album, the first photo being a portrait of a family: a husband and wife, a little girl, three boys, and an older woman holding the girl's jacket.

Marlene.

_Click_.

Adelgiese threw the book back onto the shelf with incredibly speed, her duster jerking upward to begin cleaning the edge of the shelf, and her mind consoling her to move slowly, calmly. Boots entered the room and then paused, and she could feel _his_ eyes on her back, disapproval radiating off of him. She'd never experienced such strong exposure to his displeasure before, and she wasn't entirely sure how, but she managed to swing her head in his direction, eyebrows raised as if surprised.

"Fraulein Hoffman," Landa stated, voice indiscernible.

"Oh, Herr Oberst," she greeted. "I'll be done in just a second if you'd like some privacy. You're home earlier than usual." She returned to her task, aware of him watching her as he began unbuttoning the front of his jacket, the shirt beneath his uniform brown tonight.

"I believe that I gave strict instructions that no one is to enter this room without my permission," he voiced. _Damn_, of all the nights that he had to return early, it had to be this one. "Would you care to explain why you've defied a direct order, Fraulein?"

"I can't leave without completing my assignments for the day, sir," she answered. "Please forgive me, but I didn't want to wait until late tonight to leave. I didn't think that you would mind so much either, but since you do..." She stopped dusting and gathered her small basket of cleaning supplies. "I can always finish tomorrow morning before you leave. I can see that I've upset you, and I promise that it won't happen again." She moved toward the door, intent on leaving, but Landa apparently had other ideas, for he intercepted her, appearing at her elbow and gently grabbing it as she reached for the door.

"You are here now," he offered with a smile, but Adelgiese didn't trust him for a moment, feeling his grip on her tighten ever so sightly when she did not instantly relent. "Please, continue. It would be pointless for you to leave without finishing the job at this point. I would not have you waiting for me into the morning hours merely to dust. Zissel will tell Marlene to excuse you from such strict rules in the future." He was so close, his face mere inches from hers.

"As you wish, sir," she replied, and he finally released her elbow. "I do feel rather foolish now, but I didn't want to worry about being dismissed for leaving my duties incomplete. Thank you for understanding, sir."

"Such formality," Landa playfully scoffed, his manner now utterly pleasant as he moved to sit down at his desk. "I preferred you being more casual, Del. I may still call you Del, yes?"

"Of course," Adelgiese answered, setting her basket down and resuming her cleaning of the bookshelves. "But what should I call you? As you put it, I was 'off duty' when we last spoke, but now that I'm working, it doesn't seem proper for me to address you informally."

"And yet you've already dropped the 'sirs'," Landa pointed out, one hand gesturing to the side. "Uh," he said, stopping her from speaking with one finger raised in the air. "That was not a reprimand, my dear. You seem sensible enough to address me as you please without offending, especially since you're such an obedient and astute woman. Isn't that right, Del?" Her eyes darted to him, taking in his slight smile and amused expression.

"You are correct, Oberst," she answered. For a few minutes, she worked in silence, listening as he stood and walked to the bar, the clink of a glass and the uncorking of a bottle filling her ears.

"Would you care for a drink?"

"Wie bitte?" she asked, surprised as she turned to look at him. He was standing there looking less formal than usual with his jacket removed and a glass of red wine in his hand. "Are you in habit of offering alcohol to your staff, Oberst?" She did not like this turn of events at all, but if he wanted to play, she wasn't going to appear unsettled.

"Nein," he answered, tone borderline mocking. "But I believe that a toast in the name of our newfound informality is in order. What would you care to drink?" _Refusal is non-optional_, Adelgiese decided, but she made no move toward the bar.

"Erdbeerbowle," she told him. "But I don't imagine that you have strawberries up here, so a glass of red will be fine." Landa lightly laughed as he poured her a glass, walking forward and handing it to her with casual friendliness.

"Whenever I think that I know a woman's taste in drinks, I tend to be wrong," he mused. "It's the one area of guesswork that continues to confound me. I would have pegged you as a lover of richer drinks rather than fruity ones, but alas," he raised his glass to her and then downed a large portion of it. "I've found an area where I need to improve." Adelgiese wasn't entirely sure how to handle this, but she quickly found herself slipping back into body language that had never entirely left her due to her upbringing. In the presence of a sociable officer and with a drink in hand, she involuntarily leaned a hip against the back of the sofa, adopting a casual stance as she began sipping her drink.

"What's your opinion?" Landa asked, leaning forward and watching her with his intent, brown eyes. Adelgiese found herself thinking that his blond hair looked incredibly soft. "You seem like a woman who would appreciate a more prestigious wine."

"I'm afraid that I don't have any experience with 'more prestigious wines'," Adelgiese shortly replied, suddenly realizing how she was behaving. "My career pays for strawberries, sir, not upscale brews." She straightened from the couch and set her unfinished glass on the coffee table, returning to work so that she could leave this room as soon as possible. At least she'd watched him make the drink, so she knew that there was nothing in it.

_Do you really think that he'd lace your wine? For what purpose?_

She told herself to stop being overly paranoid rather than just cautious as her duster swished back and forth, her speed of work increasing. Landa had even returned to his desk and was focused on the documents there, and she thought that perhaps she'd be able to finish her work without further hassle. Maybe he would work through the rest of her stay, but she doubted that and was proven correct as her task neared completion. She was just about to collect his dirty drinking glasses and leave when...

"Del," Landa spoke, her nickname sounding from his lips with a lifted end, as if he were puzzling over her. "Are you going to leave without telling me what you wanted?"

"I'm afraid that I don't know what you mean," Adelgiese carefully spoke, facing him from across the room.

"My dear Fraulein," he crisply enunciated. "I credit you with being a very sensible person, and you know that your job would not be jeopardized by angering our Marlene, who Zissel barely tolerates as it is. You obviously came here wanting something—something that was worth the risk of being caught." Adelgiese could not believe how this man's mind could so easily discern underlying motives where others saw nothing, but he had to be leading her on, waiting for her to fall for this carefully set trap. "There's no reason for you to walk out of those doors without speaking due to my earlier, abrasive behavior. Tell me: why did you enter this study uninvited?"

"You've caught me, Herr Oberst," Adelgiese quietly spoke, and his searching expression burned against her skin with a hunger that disconcerted her. "I _did_ come here for more than cleaning, but...forgive me, sir," she said, eyes intentionally downcast. "I wished to speak to you of your daughter." _Smooth_, she mentally patted herself on the back. Another near tightening of the noose had been evaded.

"Brigitte?" Landa questioned, expression suddenly more reserved, but she could almost see the hound sniffing for blood behind his eyes. There was now no doubt in her mind that he was trying to uncover more about her, but whether purely through conversation or more dangerous, unseen efforts remained unclear. Too bad for him that he appeared to have nothing concrete with which to work.

"What about the girl?" he asked.

"It is merely that she is inside almost all day," Adelgiese explained. "She's confined to this house with her tutor coming here and never being taken out, and it's beginning to make her anxious, sir. She's young and needs to get out and interact with other people. With your permission, I would like to take her to market with me when I'm assigned to buy groceries, and perhaps to a cafe for lunch once in a while. It would also help improve her French, if I might be so bold." She stood looking as demure and apologetic as she could, and Landa sat looking blank and thoughtful, handsome and deadly as he considered her words.

"You must understand that I am a hated man," he responded. "I'm called the Jew Hunter, and more than a few French want me dead for that among other things—there are always other things," he interjected, furtive smile playing about his lips. "As my daughter, Brigitte is in a dangerous position. She is kept inside for her own safety, so I must decline your request, Del."

"Oberst," Adelgiese continued, voice firmer than before as she realized just how important this incidental topic actually was. "If that is true, and if you plan to spend little time with her, Brigitte could easily be sent back to Germany rather than keeping her in a cage." She was almost certain that she'd stepped over the line yet again with her boldness, but she would not apologize for this. Braced for Landa's backlash, she watched as his eyes turned cold, his friendly smile dropping.

"Are you suggesting that I'm a bad father?" he asked, tone severe.

"No," Adelgiese lied. "But I am concerned that Brigitte is too confined, whether you mean well or not, sir, and the girl seeks your attention with little reward."

"And why do you think that I choose to keep my daughter here if she would be safer somewhere else?" he asked, the challenge in his posture and voice unmistakable. Adelgiese's tongue turned to lead in her mouth, her mind racing to decide on a course of action. She'd tried quiet and proper with this man, and it'd gotten her questioned, so why not try another approach? She was already within his radar, and blunt honesty might offset some of his suspicions.

"Would you have me be honest, sir?" she questioned, meeting his brown eyes. "Cynical even? I'm rather cynical by nature, but if you ask for the response that you'd like to hear, I'll give it to you."

"I don't think that you know me well enough to assume anything about what I want to hear," came Landa's quick response. "Bitte," he continued, inviting smile returning full-force. "Be as cynical as you wish." His decision, not hers.

"I can see several practical advantages to keeping Brigitte here," she carefully began. "For one, some people are adverse to involving children in conflict and might therefore be less likely to attack this home. There are others who would target a child and try to use her against you, in which case she could draw people out of hiding, but that is me being my most cynical, sir," she qualified, watching his expression. "My guess is that you're waiting to see what happens and have confidence that you can prevent her from becoming a liability. There is a...but I am finished, sir."

"No," Landa corrected her. "You haven't finished, but I'm sure that you will." Did he honestly want to hear her critique him like this? Adelgiese didn't know, but she didn't deny his request either.

"I was going to say that there's also the matter of appearances. If you rejected your own daughter, the picture perfect Aryan child, it would not remain secret for long, and you might like being known as a cruel bastard among your enemies, but I have a feeling that you are much more refined in how you present yourself to the high command and polite, German society." She sealed her mouth and watched as Landa slowly raised a fist, his face pleased as he began to tap it against the desk.

"Oooooh, _you_, beautiful Fraulein, are more perceptive and intuitive than my own men," he enthusiastically applauded. "However did you end up as a maid, hmmm? Perhaps I'll have to watch what I say around ears like yours, but then again, I need not worry," he reassured her, although not very convincingly. "Because your ears have already been hired out to me courtesy of Zissel. As for your request..." He shrugged his shoulder with an almost apologetic smile on his lips. "I will allow you to take Brigitte out in public on one condition."

Adelgiese waited for him to continue, but he seemed content to hold her in suspense.

"Yes?" she finally asked.

"You will watch over Brigitte as if you were—which word to use?—as if you were a relative." A secretive gleam passed across his eyes, and Adelgiese didn't know what to make of his jovial but veiled face. How much of what she'd voiced about his motivations had been accurate? "And don't enter my study again without permission, informal as we've decided to be."

"Jawohl," Adelgiese pleasantly agreed, itching to leave the room. "If there's nothing else, Oberst, I'll finish my other assigned room and go home."

"But of course," he smiled. "Bis Bald, Del." She didn't reply as she left the room, completely forgetting about the wine that she'd left sitting on the coffee table. Colonel Landa was definitely not her father, and she had a feeling that he knew exactly why she'd been in his study besides what she'd voiced, but he had no evidence.

_Do you honestly think that the man needs solid evidence to act?_

At least she'd scored what she considered a minor victory, for tomorrow she could take Brigitte out for lunch, but there was something else that Landa had said on that account that would not leave her mind. The girl might be targeted, and as Brigitte's self-appointed guardian, Adelgiese had to be careful. Paris might seem safe, but appearances were seldom accurate, just as everything concerning Landa seemed to be.

* * *

I might have rushed the editing a little, and I'm not wholly satisfied with this chapter, but I need to go watch the Golden Globes and see if Inglorious Basterds wins anything. lol


	7. Chapter 7: N ever Look Away

Chapter 7: Never Look Away

"This arrived for you, Herr Oberst," Schneider announced, passing a large, sealed file to the colonel as the man stepped out of his room.

"From Berlin," Landa noted with satisfaction. "And a good morning to you, major," he added as an afterthought. "Have Hermann ready the car. Goebbels arrives in three hours, and security needs to be perfect for the duration of his stay. We'll likely waste most of the day escorting him and reviewing security details." Goebbels was a bit of a pointless distraction in Landa's opinion, the leading Nazis' visit to Paris one that would detract from more useful work, but at least the man held a high opinion of him and wouldn't try to meddle in his affairs. Meddling would be downright intolerable, for Goebbels might have influence within the Reich, but the man lacked the intelligence or merit to deserve such a position.

"And what about the Jewish exodus supposedly slated for this evening?" Schneider asked.

"Send a detachment in advance," Landa ordered. "We'll be there in time."

"Jawohl. And sir?"

"Something else, major?"

"Del and the girl have gone out again. Shall I send the usual man to watch them?"

"I have no intentions of letting that sneaky woman out of my sights, major, especially with my daughter." The man left to attend to business while Landa opened his mail in the hallway, pulling free a short, typed letter: _Hoffman Estate opened for investigation. Begins tomorrow. Photos from Elfriede Hoffman's private collection. Full packet of information will be delivered within the week. _

Landa excitedly pulled a thin stack of photos from the envelope, flipping through them with a wickedly pleased expression. Like the devil collecting on someone's soul, he felt elated at having ferreted out someone's secrets for his exploitation. Here, in photo after photo, was a younger version of Adelgiese, her smile lighting up each scene as she posed with her sister in a garden and then at a party, their gowns lavish and amplifying already stunning figures. He was suddenly sorely tempted to call downstairs and have Adelgiese deliver breakfast to him, but time was short and preparations for one of the Reich's chief idiots many. It wouldn't do to have a black mark like 'successful assassination of Reich minister' on his record.

"You play the game well, my beautiful maid," he whispered, directing the comment toward the top photo in his hand, eyes fixed on the almost bashful expression that Adelgiese wore as an officer held her in position for a waltz. "Unfortunately, you're only an amateur compared to me." She was gifted considering how well she'd spoken last night—so well in fact, that he'd been genuinely impressed by how calmly and convincingly she could lie while looking into his eyes.

He smiled as he resealed the envelope with the photos inside, his plan to lock the incriminating evidence within his desk for now. He was tempted to confront Adelgiese as soon as possible, but then again, suspense was something that he appreciated, so maybe he'd merely leave these photos out where she would see them. No, that would ruin his advantage at this point, for he liked keeping her in uncertainty. It was more suspenseful that way.

**************

Adelgiese felt none of the colonel's dark intentions as she meandered through a street market, stands of fresh vegetables and shoppers all around her, and sunlight dancing across Brigitte's golden locks. This was their third outing in the week since Landa had agreed to her proposition, and she could already see the positive effects that venturing outside was having on her niece. Bubblier than usual, the girl held her hand and pulled her into the crowd, trying to act adult by suggesting which vegetables to buy and insisting on carrying a small bag. The child actually cut a rather comical figure as she used the handful of French that she knew at every opportunity, greeting everyone possible with a friendly 'Bonjour', and saying some things that made no sense whatsoever. Adelgiese wasn't sure why the tutor had taught Brigitte to say 'I like cherries', but she'd heard the comment at least ten times now.

"Del!" Brigitte exclaimed, looking at a stand of tomatoes. "Let's get these ones." Aware that speaking German drew certain disapproving eyes toward them, Adelgiese kept a protective proximity to the girl, her hand always hovering near the basket that she carried for groceries, for beneath the towel that lined the basket was a knife that she'd taken from the kitchen when Pierre wasn't looking. He would have an explosive fit of indignation if he ever found out, but compared to seeing an injured Brigitte and then having to explain that to Landa, she'd take the risk. Lord in Heaven above, she didn't even want to imagine being called to account by Landa.

"Wie viele?" Brigitte asked, still focused on the tomatoes.

"Zwei."

"Deux," she proudly told the seller in French, accepting the tomatoes and stuffing them into her bag as Adelgiese paid. Those vegetables certainly wouldn't be unblemished by the time that they got back to the house, but oh well.

"Are we going to the cafe soon?" Brigitte asked.

"Once we buy some fresh cream."

"Okay." So went the routine that was quickly establishing itself on these outings. First they shopped, and then they had a snack at Cafe Nouvelle Lune, a charming restaurant only a short walk away. Adelgiese couldn't afford to buy the most expensive desserts, but she could manage a few cookies, which was fine with Brigitte. The girl was used to being denied luxury since the destruction of her family, and in fact, she was far less demanding than she'd first been when she'd come into Adelgiese's care.

"The colonel says that he's going to buy me a new dress," Brigitte gushed, sounding pleased. The girl always did when Landa was involved, but despite her attachment to the man, she still insisted on calling him Oberst—a habit that she'd likely picked up from the SS men and staff. Adelgiese was rather pleased that her niece didn't call the man anything more familiar anyway, for she didn't think of Landa as the girl's real father, but more of a provider.

"He's really nice to me," the girl continued. "Isn't he nice to you too?"

"He smiles a lot," Adelgiese blankly answered.

"Yep," Brigitte agreed. "And he says you're very pretty. He says that you're one of the prettiest women he's ever met. Daddy always told mutti that she was pretty. I like when he calls you pretty. Hey, maybe he'll buy you a new dress too!" Adelgiese forced herself to return the girl's smile, her insides clenched in abject horror at the thought of Landa buying clothing for her. That went way over the line of professional distance that she tried to maintain between them, and she had a sinking feeling that if the man ever intruded beyond what she wanted to allow, he wouldn't retreat, especially if he sensed her discomfort.

"Brigitte," she cautioned. "Don't say anything to the colonel about buying me a new dress, okay?"

"Warum?" the girl asked, confused as they paused beneath a fruit cart's yellow awning.

"Because..." Her voice trailed off as she noticed someone in the bustling crowd, her eyes meeting the man's for a few seconds before he disappeared among the other shoppers. That man—the one with the black hair combed back into a ponytail and the small mustache—she'd seen him on their last trip, and he'd been watching them then as well.

"Del?" Brigitte asked, tugging on her guardian's skirt.

"Ein Moment," she distractedly answered, one hand grabbing the girl's while her eyes scanned the crowd. There, passing between a cart of potatoes and a balding man! She didn't miss how the man's head had been turned in her direction either, and her grip on Brigitte's hand tightened until the girl complained, but Adelgiese wasn't listening. Being watched by a stranger was unsettling, the man's gaze had been too straight and emotionless to impart a mere passing interest or goodwill. Where the hell had he gone?

"Brigitte," Adelgiese instructed, suddenly feeling exposed despite the wall of bodies and colorful produce surrounding her. "Don't let go of my hand, and keep very close to me." The girl looked up at her with wide eyes and nodded obediently, having been given careful instructions about what to do if someone bothered them.

"What's wrong, aunty?"

"Don't use that word," Adelgiese warily whispered. "This way." Where had the usual smattering of German troops gone? She suddenly realized that allies were nowhere in sight, and she wondered where they were or what had drawn them away, for she'd chosen this market specifically because of the Germans that frequented it with their girlfriends. Perhaps there had been an incident and they had been called to duty.

There! She caught sight of the strange man yet again, or maybe it had been someone else who looked similar, but whether the man posed a threat or not, she was going to find a street that made her feel more secure. As soon as she crossed paths with troops, she was telling them that Brigitte was Landa's daughter and asking for an escort home. The risk of doing otherwise was simply not worth the possible cost, and she reprimanded herself for not having noticed the sudden and conspicuous absence of the Wehrmacht sooner.

"Del, where are we going? The cafe is that way."

"We're going to find some nice German officers," she soothed. "And then we're going home." The girl didn't argue as they neared the edge of the market, the crowds thinning and affording Adelgiese a much better view of the street. She knew that there was an office up ahead where she could find allies and even use a public phone to call Landa for an escort, although the thought of doing so ground against her nerves. She could imagine his smug voice chiding her for being careless.

"Excuse me! Mademoiselle!" Adelgiese saw the young man approaching, a bundle of newspapers in his hands, and a smile spreading across his face beneath a blue cap. "Paper, ma'am?" he asked, coming closer.

"No, thank you," Adelgiese tersely answered, more concerned with maintaining her brisk pace than dealing with a boy hoping to make a few coins. She continued walking, not looking back but aware of the teenager following her.

"But mademoiselle," he argued. "I have German editions."

"Not interested," she replied, growing more irritated as his footsteps persisted. "I said no," she finally put her foot down, turning with baleful eyes only to see the papers extending toward her, the rolled stack landing against her abdomen, and the tip of something more dangerous that paper jabbing into her stomach. Her words fell away as her eyes shifted between the papers and the young man, whose face was decidedly less friendly now.

"That's a pistol," he cautioned her. "Quick. Into the alley. A car is waiting for us."

"Del?" Brigitte asked, voice soft and nervous as Adelgiese's palms sweated against the child's.

"Don't make a sound," she told the girl, pulling her closer as they entered an alley ahead of the young man. She heard the cocking of his pistol, and she saw the car ahead, waiting at the other end of this short, narrow passageway. Brick walls with cracking plaster closed in around her, killing any plans of escape while she stared at the man with the mustache, who was holding the car's backdoor open for her as they approached. The basket was still on her arm, and the knife still beneath the blanket, but these men had guns. They'd planned this ahead, and that car was waiting to receive hostages.

_Or they might simply kill and mutilate us to send Landa a message_.

Adelgiese's pulse began to race as she thought about climbing into that car, for once inside, she would be completely at the mercy of these men. She could not allow that door to shut with Brigitte or herself on the other side.

"Mademoiselle," the man with the mustache coldly greeted, pulling his jacket aside to reveal the gun strapped beneath his armpit.

"What is the meaning of this?" Adelgiese asked.

"Don't pretend to be stupid," the man frowned. "Get in the car and maybe you'll get out of this alive." Brigitte clung to her aunt's side, small hands now shaking as Adelgiese protectively stepped in front of the girl.

_Don't get in that car._

"So this is the Jew Hunter's daughter. Such blue eyes..."

_You're finished if you get in that car._

Adelgiese swung her basket before the man could finish speaking, releasing Brigitte's hand to use both of her own in her desperate assault. The basket smashed against the man's face, snapping his head sideways as her free hand fumbled beneath the blanket, fingers wrapping around a cold handle as her throat clenched in fear. Someone yelled, the yell morphing into a scream of pain as metal flashed in her hands, and then she was running, one of her hands fastened painfully around Brigitte's wrist.

Something slick coated her fingers. Blood? The thought sickened Adelgiese, and she refused to look down and find out as she continued to run, a gunshot firing, but the bullet's final destination unknown as she plowed ahead. The only sound was Brigitte's gasping breathes and the sound of blood rushing through her ears, the pounding of panicked hearts blocking out the shocked expressions of the people that they passed. Where there were two enemies, there were usually more. They had to find German troops before anyone else came, and what about the two men that they'd left behind? Were they following, aiming for another shot?

"Fraulein Hoffman!" someone yelled.

German. The speaker was definitely German, but this new man wasn't wearing a uniform for identification. "Fraulein. Stop, bitte! I've already called a car."

"You're SS?" Adelgiese demandingly asked, facing the man.

"Ja, Ja," he assured. "Bitte. I saw what happened. We should hurry incase..."

_Crack_.

"Schnell!" He ushered them behind a parked car while he drew his pistol, clearly unsure as to where the resounding shot had just come from as he frantically looked in every which direction. Adelgiese clutched Brigitte to her with one arm, her nerves clenching with each random shot that rang out as her back pressed against the car. For a moment, all sound lulled to a standstill, and a black car was approaching to unload several SS men in full uniform, their automatic weapons at the ready. Perhaps the threat had now passed.

_Crack. _

_ Crack._

"I'm not getting caught in crossfire," Adelgiese firmly stated, her wits returning to her as both German and French guns opened fire. Had a bullet just hit the car? The metallic ping echoed through her mind, and the people on the streets were certainly running to get indoors as quickly as possible.

"We'll end this quickly," the man beside her assured, peeking over the hood of the car. Adelgiese might have believed him if a sudden explosion of fire hadn't interrupted him, flames jumping across the stone street as some kind of homemade bomb struck the earth. These people had to be crazy going after the SS in broad daylight like this, but perhaps they really thought that capturing Brigitte would give them leverage. _Or_, she decided, _maybe there are enough of them to kill this small detachment of men. _

Another bomb rocked the car, glass from the breaking windows shattering around Adelgiese's head as shards fell across her shoulders. Another well aimed throw might set someone on fire, and so she hauled Brigitte from the ground, the sound of conflict chasing them from the scene as a guard called after her. He could say what he wanted, but Adelgiese knew that the car was more dangerous than taking to the endless streets while the enemy was tied up with the SS. Guns were pointed at the men in black, not civilians fleeing for their lives, and rising smoke from the bombs granted ample coverage from the enemy.

Enemy? Adelgiese found herself shocked that she'd used such a word, for she had never personally thought of the Free French as an enemy until this moment. Swallowing her thoughts, she ran and made Brigitte keep pace for what felt like eternity before they finally entered familiar surroundings. From here she knew how to get back to the house, and excluding the wide berth that people were giving them, she was comfortable with slowing to a fast walk on these open streets. The girl couldn't keep up with her running for much longer anyway, Brigitte's breathe coming in rapid gasps and her small chest heaving.

"We're almost there," Adelgiese reassured her. "Just a little further." She could see the house's roof from here. "Just a little further," she repeated to herself.

***************

Landa was pleased to have any meeting with Goebbels cut short, but when Schneider had whispered an urgent message in his ear, he'd found himself perturbed. Now he exited his car and stormed into his home, several SS men waiting for him, and Zissel looking agitated while offering a quick salute.

"Well?" Landa impatiently asked, arms spread wide.

"There was an attempt to kidnap Brigitte," Zissel stated. "Forty minutes ago."

"An attempt?" Landa mockingly repeated. "If it was only an attempt and the situation's been resolved, why was I not informed before leaving Herr Goebbels? You might have spared me some consternation, Private." Although, it _would_ be amusing to see the Free French attempt to negotiate using his daughter, for they while they would dither with words, he would sneak up from behind and have their throats slit. Enemy: zero. Landa: another win.

"They're missing, sir," Zissel continued, trepidation dripping from his lips.

"You'll have to be more specific," Landa stated, voice dangerously level.

"Your daughter and the maid, sir. Men are looking for them as we speak."

"Splendid!" Landa offered with sarcastic enthusiasm. "Please tell me that the suspects were at least apprehended or killed, preferably the former."

"Apparently two men were shot and killed, Herr Oberst," Schneider spoke from behind the colonel. "Several others got away, and a man was captured alive, but he died before they could transport him."

"If I may speak, sir," another SS man nervously spoke up. "That was not our doing, sir. Someone had stabbed the man in the chest before we got to him. Sir," he finished and backed up, not wanting the colonel's heated attention on.

"Then there's nothing to do until we either find them or receive some ludicrous list of demands," Landa concluded, head shaking as if disappointed. "Major Schneider, get in the car. We're going to the crime scene. I want to see these bodies for myself before they're moved." He preferred seeing the carnage in situ, for it often offered him more information than a coroner's report. Perhaps he'd stop for lunch while he was out too, and in the meantime, these idiots had better locate his daughter. Had the maid perhaps planned something all along?

"And if child has been taken?" Schneider asked as they exited the house.

"We'll deal with it," came the quick response, but Landa's attention was quickly diverted to the two figures approaching the front doors in a state of complete disarray.

"Call off the search, Zissel," he ordered. "And get me a medic." His footsteps cut across the short distance between him and his daughter, eyes darting appreciatively toward the bloody knife in Adelgiese's hand. The blade was slick with red, as were the fingers that wrapped around the hilt, and he quickly examined the woman's face, seeing no revulsion, but at the same time, no distinct emotion by which to judge her reaction to the violence.

So she was the one that had stabbed her attacker, causing the man's death. Where had she even gotten the knife? It wasn't a knife meant to shed blood but to peel potatoes. Ah yes, the kitchen, meaning that she'd thought ahead as to her defense. He found himself drawn toward her calm but rigid features, her face still beautiful in the aftermath of bloodshed, and he decided that he could get lost in those blue eyes in search of her hidden capabilities.

"The knife, Fraulein," he demanded, extending a hand. Adelgiese looked at the bloody blade in her grasp, a brief flash of revulsion crossing her features before she set it in his open palm. "Major Schneider," he said, passing the weapon off. "Are you both unharmed?" He crouched to examine his daughter, having already concluded that the maid was fine despite her semi-dazed state. The girl was another issue entirely, for she was obviously still frightened, but when he reached out to smooth hair behind her ears, she leaned into his touch. She really was the closest thing that he'd ever seen to an angel.

"We're fine," Adelgiese stated, heaving a sigh of relief.

"And you, my dear?" he persisted in asking Brigitte, whose eyes were downcast. "Look at me." Her eyes rose, lips pressed together as tears threatened to overcome her, and she lowered the shopping bag that she'd been holding against her chest. Landa barely had time to register the red on the front of the girl's clothing before Adelgiese had dropped to her knees and pulled the child closer, eyes wide in fear. He was nearly knocked over by the woman's sudden movements.

"Did you get hit?" Adelgiese demanded.

"The medic, Zissel!" Landa ordered as he rose to his feet. He had enough practical knowledge to help the child until then, but he was no doctor. Turning back around, he found Adelgiese holding the girl tightly against her, face buried in the girl's hair as her shoulders shook with what he assumed were muffled sobs.

"Del," he cautioned, laying a hand on her shoulder to grab her attention. He didn't want to startle the distraught woman and make her do anything foolish. Shame really. He'd expected more from her after seeing the knife and catching her in his study. "You need to release the girl or you could worsen the situation. I need to see her wounds..." His voice trailed off as he realized that Adelgiese's shaking had nothing to do with tears. The woman was actually laughing.

"Herr Oberst," she sighed, pulling away from the girl with a strained smile. "The chef will be most unhappy with us." She ran a finger through the red on Brigitte's dress and then stuck the tip into her mouth, Landa finding himself fixated by the gesture. "You see," she weakly joked. "We've destroyed the tomatoes that he wanted for supper." Landa's lips twitched upward as he made a closer examination of the girl's clothing, which had been denied him due to Adelgiese's hasty movements.

"Tomatoes?" he asked, voice and eyebrows rising in amusement.

"Tomatoes," Adelgiese repeated, shaking her head in disbelief and fully releasing the child. Landa laughed while he shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Brigitte's shoulders. The girl looked incredibly confused as he merrily chuckled, smiling down at her while Adelgiese stood.

"Am I in trouble?" Brigitte asked.

"Nein, nein," Landa said, laughter subsiding. "Come inside and we'll get you cleaned up. _Both_ of you," he stressed, eyes roaming toward Adelgiese. She wasn't looking at him, but running hands through her brown hair instead, blue eyes distant once more. "Fraulein Hoffman...? _Del._"

"Ja?"

"Major Schneider is going to escort you inside and see that you get a bath and some new clothing. Unless you like having blood on your dress..." That got her attention, and he watched as Schneider led her away, her steps already regaining some of their surety as she moved. Even distracted by thought, she was graceful, and he now had quite the conundrum on his hands. The maid lied to him and had a connection to the Hoffman family, but he doubted that she was working with his enemies considering this recent turn of events. She'd stabbed a man for his daughter, acting selflessly to save the child of a hated man. Of course, that meant nothing concerning himself, but there were many possibilities here that entertained him as he turned the evidence this way and that with interest. He could hardly wait for his expected files to arrive.

****************

The bath water was warm, and Adelgiese allowed it to envelope her as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the rim of the tub. Schneider had brought her here, to a bathroom with a decidedly masculine air, and she knew without a doubt that she was in Landa's personal chambers. She hadn't cleaned them before, but she knew for a fact that she wasn't in one of the other two bathrooms in the house. One was for servant use and in the basement, and the other was for more general use, upstairs and connecting two separate bedrooms. Perhaps Brigitte was using that one, which left the master suite's bathroom for her use.

She opened her eyes and stared at the blue robe hanging on the back of the door, her vision than drifting toward the small ledge above the sink where a bottle of cologne sat. Landa must be pleased with her having saved his daughter to be allowed into his private quarters, but she wasn't particularly happy about her role in said events. A quiet day would have been much better.

_And cleaner_. The blood from her fingers had been the first thing that she'd cleaned, her memory replaying the motions of the knife in her hand until she forced herself to stop. It wouldn't do to allow something that had been necessary to bother her, but nor did she like to think of herself as indifferent. Indifference concerning her limited capabilities to change what she disliked was one thing, but feeling cold when it came to being the direct source of someone's pain...? No, the thought didn't sit well with her at all, but there was nothing that she could do to change what had happened. She'd stabbed a man in self-defense, and that was that.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Fraulein Hoffman?"

"Ja?" she asked, sitting up in the bathtub at the sound of Landa's voice. "I'll be done in a moment."

"Please, take your time. It's the least that you deserve after what you've done, and I've never forced a woman to rush her domestic rituals. I'm the Jew Hunter, not the Bath Disrupter," he joked, and she could hear the laughter in his words. "Feel free to use my robe if you're concerned about your modesty when you've finished, but no one will be in my room. A dress is waiting for you on my bed, and I do hope that it's to your liking." She couldn't imagine what he'd chosen and gotten on such short notice.

"Danke, Herr Oberst," she called, feeling exposed merely by being naked as he spoke to her. _Please_, she frowned. _As if he's a peeping tom looking through the keyhole. Stop being stupid._

"It is I who should thank you this time," Landa continued, voice mellow and magnetic. "Until you've finished, I bid you ado." She listened as he left, and taking his advice, she decided to sit in the tub until the water grew too cold for comfort. It was only then that she dried off, standing before the bathroom mirror as she squeezed her hair with a towel and looked at the toothbrush and scissors sitting along the sink. Her hair always looked so much darker when wet, appearing almost black as she ran fingers through it.

_"I love your hair, sis." _

_ "Be quiet. You wouldn't trade your blond hair for the world." _

Adelgiese faintly smiled at the memory as she pulled her hair back, which revealed her bare shoulders and breasts to the mirror, her skin rising in goosebumps in the cool air. Her eyes unconsciously drifted to the callous marking of an iron cross on her left shoulder, the wound an X of raised scar tissue that was still discolored around the edges. She hated looking at the old wound, for it always conjured memories of running in terror—of scratching nails and flailing limbs, and the man who'd so cruelly lowered the hot metal onto her skin.

_Enough_.

She wrapped Landa's robe about her, not trusting that the room would be empty should she enter it unannounced, and opened the door to let steam drift into the bedroom. She knew that she had nothing to ashamed of, but she'd be damned if she showed Landa her goods or scar and gave him the wrong impression. Men, after all, were very similar when it came to naked women whether they were cunning and unusual like Landa or a shy country boy.

_It smells good_, she vaguely realized, sniffing the soft, blue fabric of the robe. Then she walked into the bedroom and saw the dress that had been selected for her. Damn that man to hell, but what was he thinking in selecting this for her? Heels with rhinestones and a cocktail dress to match? Adelgiese gritted her teeth as she quickly calculated whether the dress would cover her scar or not, for the only other option was walking about in a towel. She could imagine him smirking at that, but she was hardly amused that he was using this situation to dress her up, and she wouldn't put it past him to have intentionally done this for his entertainment either.

Perturbed as she was, she glanced around his room with its simple but elegant trappings, and then dropped the towel as she moved to get dressed. There was a lighter sitting on the nightstand beside his bed, and how fitting that it should bear an iron cross on its surface. Why couldn't the man have given her something comfortable to wear after a harrowing day? This dressing up seemed utterly inappropriate as well as inconsiderate, but there were small pleasures to be had in life. She grabbed the lighter and stuffed it into her bra, knowing that he would notice but be unable to find it.

There was a difference between cooperating and being a plaything—between keeping below suspicion and appearing pliable. She knew the difference, and so did he.

* * *

A longer chapter than usual. Hope that you all like it.


	8. Chapter 8: O rders Aren't Optional

Chapter 8: Orders aren't Optional

"Fraulein Hoffman," Landa greeted, lifting her hand and placing a kiss on the back of it. His warm breath fanned across her skin, and as he straightened, Adelgiese knew that his gaze traveled up the path between her breasts. He couldn't have picked a simple, modest gown. No, he'd chosen an emerald dress that had a generous v-neck and slipped over her hips like a glove. The entire look was more suited to a wealthy partygoer than the maid that she was, and with wet hair pulled into a low ponytail of clinging strands, she felt decidedly out of place.

"You look stunning," he told her. "Turn for me."

"Herr Oberst," she objected. "I appreciate the gesture, but how am I suppose to work in this?"

"Hmmm?" He didn't seem to be paying attention as he slowly circled her, his eyes scorching every inch of her skin. She really didn't want or need to deal with this after almost being killed. "You're not wearing the shoes that I supplied," he then stated with disapproval, frowning at the bottom of her dress, which dragged on the floor due to her lack of high heels.

"Sir, bitte," she sighed. "I've had a long day."

"Careful, my dear Del," he tutted as he stopped in front of her. "And you've no need to worry so much. Marlene is getting you more appropriate clothing as we speak, and by tonight you'll be back in your standard blue skirt and white blouse. That is your preference, isn't it?" His smile was teasing as he continued to admire her form. "I admit," he said with a slight toss of his hands in the air. "I think that this look suits you much better than plainer outfits, but I can see how it is impractical....yes, you're right, but wear this for the rest of the day—at least until Marlene returns. Don't women love to dress to impress?" She stared straight into his eyes as he took a step closer. "And you _did_ say that you don't like to disappoint."

"Is Brigitte doing alright?" Adelgiese asked, switching topics.

"She's perfectly fine, but people her age tend to recover quickly." She absently nodded. "Del." He just had to demand her attention whenever he was talking, didn't he? "I'm going to find whoever was responsible for this, and when I do..." He ran a finger across his throat, eyes hardened and something dangerous and aggressive glimmering deep within those brown irises of his. "There will not be a repeat performance of this. I can guarantee you that."

…

…

…

The memory was still fresh in Adelgiese's mind three days later, when she knelt on the entryway's floor, scrubbing scuff marks from the wood. Landa had put her in a position where she couldn't say no, but if dressing her up had distracted him from what she'd done in his room, then fine. There was another memory, as strong as the first, of her opening the table next to his bed to find cigarettes, lighters, and spare ammo, none of which had alarmed her, but then she'd seen the book. Thin and inconspicuous, she'd opened it to find a list of every successful assignment that he'd completed, each entry listing casualties and the target that he'd been assigned to remove. What kind of a man kept a tally like that?

"Del, can't you play?"

_Oh, that's right; this girl's father._

"I'm working, Brigitte," she chided. "And you have lessons to finish." As if on cue, the tutor entered the front door and greeted the child, sweeping her back toward Brigitte's bedroom where lessons were conducted. Landa made sure that the girl worked long hours on assignments, and to a degree that Adelgiese thought more suited to a soldier in training than a young child, but it was not her decision.

_Dreyfus family: 4 kills, 1 girl escaped. Name: Shoshanna_

_ Kanter family: 2 kills, no survivors_

_ Matthew Zindler: spy, questioned and executed. _

Adelgiese threw her rag into the wash bucket, mind clouded with names that meant nothing but which sounded off like a roll call in her head. She supposed that this was her own fault, for Landa had almost felt like a decent man the day that she and Brigitte had escaped the Free French. He'd taken care of them by providing baths, clothing, and even comfort foods, and her only resentment dealt with him treating her like his personal doll. That had angered her, but she'd been too tired to exchange words with him—way too tired to act as she had in his study last week—and she had a feeling that pitting herself against him when she wasn't at her best would be suicidal.

_And he's still probably snooping into your past._

"Not to be trusted," she softly spoke, reaffirming her convictions concerning the man, and they _did_ need reaffirming. For a second, when she'd slipped into his robe after being offered a bath, she'd lost sight of the more cynical perception that she'd gained from observing the man, but never again. She'd been foolish twice on the day of the attack, and while one would think that shedding blood was more memorable than enjoying a bath, it wasn't. Stabbing a man didn't seem to have nearly as many dangerous ramifications.

"Did you beat the sitting room's rugs?" Elle's voice sounded, and Adelgiese looked up to see the other maid entering the room with a jacket on and a woven bag in hand. Terse and unfriendly as always, Elle never failed to disappoint in that area.

"Bonjour," Adelgiese offered with a tried undertone as she straightened from her work. "How are you today? Oh, and yes, the rugs are finished."

"I suppose that you had a good time dressing up the other night." And there it was. Adelgiese had been waiting for Elle to say something about that, but Marlene delegated tasks in such a way that the two were separated for the most part, and the older woman tended to rein Elle in when present. One stern look from the staff matron was enough to subdue most people, and the only reason that the woman's demeanor didn't halt all antagonizing comments was because of how Elle's sharp tongue looked for opportunities to dodge reprimand. It was ridiculous really, the entire spiteful affair reminding Adelgiese of schoolgirls in a tizzy over some imaginary wrong.

"Actually," she commented, wiping soapy hands on her apron as she stood. "I wanted to go to bed that night, but colonel Landa had other ideas."

"So whose bed _did_ you end up in?"

"Elle," Adelgiese replied, hands on her hips. "Stop acting like a child. I went home that night. _You_ were pouting in the dark." Picking up her bucket, she would have been content to leave Elle standing there with an expression somewhere between anger and indecision, but the other maid always had to have the last word. It was like some unspoken rule that made Adelgiese want to roll her eyes.

"The dress belonged-"

"I can guess," Adelgiese cut her off. "I'm sorry, but it wasn't my choice." She heard but did not see Elle's bag hit the floor, a colorful range of cussing exploding from the woman's lips in the aftermath. Turning, she found the French maid on hands and knees in a scramble to collect several small bottles that were rolling across the floor, liquid from broken cylinders already soaking through the fallen bag. With a sigh, Adelgiese bent to help retrieve the vials, collecting three as Elle stared into the bag to count what remained unbroken.

"Damn it," the woman hissed, but without the usual bitterness. In fact, the often aggressive voice was strained with anxiety as Adelgiese approached with the remaining vials. "I'm so stupid. I can't believe that I..." Worried eyes snapped upward as Adelgiese held out her catch, Elle's eager hands immediately reaching for the goods and hiding them within the bag.

_ It's medicine, but no one is sick_.

"Go," Adelgiese understandingly offered, extending a hand to help Elle stand. "I'll clean this up." The other maid stared up at her from beneath curly, blond bangs, and then unsure eyes shifted to the proffered hand, questioning its motivation. Adelgiese had never seen her coworker looking so out of sorts, a trace a fatigue and even fear present in the woman's rigid composure.

"Merci," Elle softly spoke, standing without accepting Adelgiese's hand, which meant nothing to the German. She opted to overlook the rudeness in favor of the woman's surprisingly genuine thanks, and so she knelt to clean shards of glass and wipe spilled medicine. Her rag swept across the floor, the room again quiet until she heard swift boots descending the main stairs. Who was coming to interrupt her work now?

"Guten Morgen, Herr Zissel," she said, glancing up from her work.

"Guten Morgen," he replied, the usual smile that he reserved for her notably absent. "I've just received orders to take you to Oberst Landa immediately. You can leave the bucket there and go as you are. It won't do to keep the man waiting."

"Nein, I'm sure that it wouldn't," she agreed, suddenly nervous. "Just let me get the last of this glass before someone gets hurt."

"I'll be waiting in the car." So she was getting a personal escort as well. What was so important that she needed to be taken to Landa when he was working? Perhaps he'd finally uncovered her background—the thought of which agitated her as she quickly collected and threw away the last of the glass. At least she had a car ride to prepare herself for whatever was coming, and she would certainly need a few moments to collect herself, for appearing as agitated as she felt before Landa was completely unacceptable.

"Fraulein Hoffman," Zissel urgently called.

"I'm coming," she said, hurrying out the door without even grabbing her coat. In the backseat of the customary, black car, an unfamiliar man driving, she found herself enclosed with Zissel, who was straightening his uniform like he was about to meet the führer himself. "Where are we going?" she asked. _And why? _

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it," Zissel stated with self-importance. _Oh please_; he was only being given such tasks because Hermann was with Landa. "Don't be alarmed though, Fraulein Hoffman. You're not in trouble." _As if you know_.

"Mandel," she said, using his first name. "You may call me 'Del' like usual. Just because we're on official business doesn't mean that we need to suddenly become formal. No one is listening anyway." He smiled at her, and she marveled at how easily he was flattered. Compared to how stern and testy he'd appeared on their first meeting, he was actually rather sweet for an SS man, but only when no one was looking. He'd even given her a small package of chocolate the other day.

"Danke, Del," he said.

"And you look fine," she playfully reassured, rather enjoying a conversation with someone whom she didn't need to watch herself around. "Very professional."

"I always look professional," he asserted with a small frown. Well, at least he was helping calm her nerves as the car moved along, the vehicle entering streets that were unfamiliar to Adelgiese. She tried to figure out where she was to no avail as they entered a street with houses that looked like they'd been haphazardly packed together. People stared at the car, and she could see a number of German soldiers patrolling, the concentration of troops and the larger buildings ahead promising German offices.

_I wonder how many people have been escorted here never to see daylight again._

"Mandel," she began, thinking about her position and the fact that she hadn't given Zissel any detailed information as of late. "I've noticed a man waiting outside of the garden. He shows up every three days or so, and Elle meets with him." _Probably just lovers_, but the information sounded suspicious enough to make it seem like she was spying full-time. "I don't know what they're up to, but I thought that maybe you'd like to know."

"I'll make a note and give it to the colonel," he said, face severe as he digested the news. She was sure that he took it seriously despite how useless it probably was, for he took every tidbit that she fed him seriously, as if each comment held the secrets that he sought. She would have found it amusing if thoughts of interrogation and death weren't preoccupying her, the car now in the midst of a street crowded with cars, Germans, and copious Nazi symbolism. This had to be where Landa was waiting for her, and as military uniforms gave way to the black and gray of the SS, her throat tightened, the sensation only worsening as the car slowed to a stop. The building before them proudly flew the Nazi flag, and SS troops were coming and going without a thought to the lone woman who was about to enter their territory. Adelgiese took one deep breath, and then her hand reached for the car's door.

"We should go," Zissel stated. "We've already kept him waiting long enough." Whether the SS had protected her the other day or not, Adelgiese felt like she was being marched into the lion's den as her black flats advanced on the building, Zissel at her side. She'd been brought to an SS office only once before in her life, and she was certain that the experience would be just as memorable and unpleasant as it'd been years ago.

"I'll leave you in the colonel's hands," Zissel told her, passing her off to another man once inside the building. He gave her a reassuring smile, and she returned it, for no one could see just how uncomfortable she truly was, especially when she realized that a stranger was leading her downward into the basement of the building. The hallway here was dimmer, the lights overhead buzzing as she became acutely aware of the absence of anyone besides herself and this guard. White tiles passing beneath her feet and unseen machinery humming through the walls, she was being led to the very back of the building, the journey taking her by bolted doors that seemed ready to open and consume her.

"Inside," the guard suddenly ordered, opening a metal door for her.

_Let's get this the hell over with_.

She stepped inside to find five men kneeing on the ground before her, all facing her as guards stood behind them with guns held at the ready. Her eyes moved quickly, taking in everything from the man with the mustache among the prisoners, to the drain at the floor's center, to the Standartenführer himself, who pivoted neatly on his heels to face her in this bare room of old, peeling paint.

"Ah, you've finally arrived." Walking forward, he raised and kissed her hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief when he noticed the soapy stains on the front of her apron. "Forgive me for calling you here so unexpectedly, but I just finished rounding up the suspects involved in your attack, and I need you to help me identify the culprits. We wouldn't want to execute someone for the wrong crime." His charm clashed with the stark scene before her, almost denying the severity of the situation, but Adelgiese held herself well as she folded hands before her apron.

"I will try to be of assistance," she promised.

"Excellent," Landa smiled, his trench coat swaying as he swept an arm toward the prisoners. "Do you recognize any of these men?"

"That one," she said, pointing toward the man with the thin, black mustache. "He tried to force Brigitte and me into a car." Said man fixed her with a baleful look, but Adelgiese merely returned his glare with a blank expression, part of her openly relieved that this meeting wasn't about her. The man's fate was out of her hands anyway, and she wasn't going to lie to the hound beside her to save someone who'd attempted to kidnap her. "He's the only one that I saw."

"Besides the one that you killed, of course," Landa stated. "But he's obviously not an issue anymore." Killed? Had she really killed the man whom she'd stabbed? She supposed that it was possible, for while she certainly hadn't examined how much damage she'd caused when running for her life, she did know that she'd hit her attacker in the chest. So she accepted the news with emotionless detachment, her senses perfectly aware that Landa was watching her face with that special intensity that he reserved for prying the truth out of people.

"You're sure that you recognize no one else?" Landa pressed.

"Ja," she answered, an apprehensive feeling twisting her stomach as she stared at the drain in the floor. For the love of God, please let him dismiss her before...

"Very well," Landa smiled. "Thank you for your assistance." Then, motioning to the guards: "Take Herr Mustache to the interrogation room. Kill the rest." Pistols rose and fired, the sound echoing loudly off of the walls as four bodies fell forward, the backs of their heads ruined. Adelgiese stared, seeing and not seeing as it occurred to her that she might have once shared a very similar fate to these men. The man that was left alive knelt there, eyes closed and his trousers collecting red as a single tear slid down his cheek, destroying the angry visage that had characterized his entire personality to her only moments before. No, things were never that simple in war, but Adelgiese wished that they could be.

Look at the blood pooling and washing down the drain.

"That takes care of that," Landa commented.

"I suppose so," Adelgiese replied, feeling his eyes on the side of her face. Unable to look any longer, she turned her back on the carnage, feeling unwell as her voice became stiffer. "May I go now, Herr Oberst?"

"Soon," he promised, motioning toward the door. "I'm sorry that you had to see that, but I wanted you to have absolute surety that this matter has been laid to rest." He sounded apologetic, but she didn't believe him as they exited the room, Landa handing her back to the guard that waited for her. "This fine man will take you upstairs where Major Schneider is. You will give him a detailed report of your attack—a formality, I assure you. The SS is obsessive about keeping records—and then I'll be happy to escort you back to the house myself. My business should be concluded by then." Business? Adelgiese actually felt sorry for the poor bastard that was about to be interrogated.

"Until then," she stated, ignoring Landa's expectant eyes. What did he want? A 'thank you'? Like hell she'd thank or congratulated him for executing four men right in front of her. She ignored him as she was escorted away, feeling his annoyance but dismissing it as she climbed the stairs. If it had only taken him three days to find men who were experienced at hiding among their enemies, what chance did she have at escaping the colonel's prying eyes?

_He hasn't caught you yet_, she reminded herself.

****************

The woman hadn't flinched when the guns fired and the bodies fell. In fact, she barely seemed to have witnessed the violence, but Landa knew that behind that calm facade she'd seen very single drop of blood. Her eyes had studied the bodies with a cool, almost analytical manner that he hadn't expected given her reaction to stabbing a man, for she'd been dazed by that event only days ago. This time, however, she'd held her ground, and there'd been no sign of the panic or disgust that he had partially expected. Such a fascinating woman, this Adelgiese Hoffman. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't able to completely mask her emotions around him, for he'd sensed her apprehension when she'd entered the execution room, and when she'd left, she'd snubbed him.

"Fraulein Hoffman," he greeted, finding her standing near the building's reception desk. "Shall we go? I hope that I didn't keep you waiting for very long."

"Not long," she answered, and he again found himself drawn to her steady movements—the casual tilt of her head, and the way that her hands brushed auburn strands away from her face. She was lying, of course, for he'd consciously kept her waiting for at least an extra hour, but the way that she made her words sound so factual drew a smile from him. She was still playing a game despite the fact that she allowed him to protect her. Ah, the beautiful Fraulein with the blue eyes—so very like Brigitte and Elfriede, but he would wait for confirmation on that assumption.

"The car awaits," he told her, offering her an arm and watching as her hand draped over his. Her skin was exceptionally smooth along the back, but her palm was rough from working, which was not unlike his own. Hands were like second eyes, and so he was forever handling objects or personally sorting through evidence, using touch to see and finding hands in general rather fascinating. For instance, he was currently studying Adelgiese's fingers, which were long like a pianist's, and he suddenly wondered if she played or had once taken lessons as a child. Moving to her nails, he noted that they were kept short in keeping with her practicality, and he found himself smiling again, for he liked that she was more practical than most women that he'd met.

"You do not seem startled by this violent, French world that you suddenly find yourself in," he commented as he held the car door for her. Joining her inside, he breathed the leather of the seats and sat closer to her than necessary, even resting his arm along the back of the seat so that it stretched behind her shoulders. As a result, her soft hair brushed against the sleeve of his uniform whenever her head moved, and he could tell that she was incredibly aware of his proximity even if she chose to say nothing. Causing her discomfort was only fair since he owed her one for the missing lighter in his bedroom, and even if he hadn't suspected her of stealing it, disconcerting people never failed to entertain him.

"Is there a reason that I should be startled, Oberst?" she asked, crossing her legs. "Violence is nothing new in this world, French or not. The newspaper is forever filled with articles on robberies and murders. It's the same everywhere I go."

"But most do not see the violence firsthand," he added, grazing one finger across her far shoulder—just enough to seem accidental to the less perceptive, but not her. No, he saw the hardening of her jaw, and he dearly hoped that he could get some further reaction out of her, but she stubbornly pretended to be unfazed. "I don't mean to unsettle you by bringing up the violence that you just witness, my dear. I merely wish to express my sincere appreciation for your levelheadedness. Hysterics would have made the situation unpleasant for everyone."

"You don't do well with hysterical women, Oberst?" she replied with a slight smile, but it was taut, forced. _You're slipping, beautiful._

"I have little experience with hysterical women," he dismissively lied with a teasing gleam in his eyes. "But Major Schneider assures me that it's most disagreeable, and I'm sure that he would know. He doesn't seem to have much luck in keeping women, only getting them between the sheets, if you'll excuse my bluntness. I'm afraid that some of my men are absolute cads."

"And that's saying nothing of your own reputation, sir," Adelgiese stated, laying the comment out without so much as missing a beat. His eyes locked with her blue ones, finding her expression difficult to decipher. Not many would dare make such a comment to his face without lightening the charge with humor, but this woman didn't sound amused in the least.

"You don't approve, Fraulein?" he asked with a light laugh and a 'so what' shrug.

"I'm merely saying that the...well, the Americans have a saying, sir," she said, switching to English with a teasing smile. "That's the pot calling the kettle black." Appreciating her use of an idiom, which he himself always found delightful, he laughed, and now she was also smiling, negating the tension. _Too good, Adelgiese. Too good_.

"I'm guilty," he agreed, resting the tip of a finger against her shoulder once again. "You know," he suggestively continued. "I really do prefer you in more extravagant clothing. I think that a dress with straps cut about here would look absolutely ravishing on you." His finger traced a path down, over her shoulder, indicating where he thought that a strap should fall, and making the woman stiffen ever-so-slightly. _Score one for me_.

*************

"Hermann!" a shrill voice barked. "Ready the car." Landa's eyes rose, curiosity stamped on his face as the door to his study flew open. In marched Brigitte, the jacket from one his gray uniforms trailing behind her, the sleeves much too long for her short arms, and his dress hat sitting atop her head. The skull on its front seemed to grin as madly as her as she made her footsteps resound as loudly as possible across the wooden floor.

"What, my dear, are you doing?" Landa asked, the pen that he'd been writing with frozen in midair.

"I'm the Standartenführer," she replied with a huff, as if that were obvious. "See?" She motioned with her arms, but with the long sleeves, it looked more like she was flapping them, cuffs smacking the floor. Landa didn't know whether to laugh or be annoyed that she'd gone into his belongings, but the former won out as she lifted her chin in an authoritarian stance.

"Mein Gott," he chuckled, eyes squeezed shut as a genuine laugh made his entire chest shake. The girl twirled in a circle to show off her outfit as he stood and approached her, Brigitte's smile seeking his as she flapped her arms once more. "A very likeness," Landa said, adopting an overly straight face for her benefit.

"I know!" she merrily squeaked. He stared at her, this girl parading so boldly in his uniform and taking an image that instilled fear in people and making it laughable. For a moment, he felt affection toward the child as he lifted her, holding her against his chest while she continued to grin. Only a child could get away with mocking his office like this, and her levity rather captivated him, for he couldn't remember a single instance of having run to his parents laughing like this girl did.

"And what are the Standartenführer's orders?" he asked, eye to eye with his daughter and nearly nose-to-nose.

"To the windows!" she demanded, and he carried her toward the balcony where the darkened sky stretched out across Paris. The girl wrapped an arm around his shoulders, leaning her head against his and expressing something to simple that Landa almost forgot that she'd gone through his room. Almost.

"For future reference," he told her. "You're not to go into my room without permission."

"You don't tell a Standartenführer what to do," she objected, and Landa leveled a stare at her. "Ok," she quickly conceded, squirming to point. "Look! There's Del." Landa gazed downward, his balcony overlooking the front of the house, and indeed, there was Adelgiese walking toward the front archway. She was foolish to still be walking home at night after she'd been attacked, and he wondered if she still carried a knife. Foolish, but brave; he would give her that much, but if there was anything that angered him, it was having his will undermined.

Landa set his daughter on the floor and let her march about the room as he grabbed the telephone from his desk and quickly dialed for Hermann.

"Jawohl?"

"Hermann, I gave orders that Fraulein Hoffman was to be offered a room in the house."

"She refused, sir." Oh really?

"My request was non-optional," he tartly replied, humor gone from his voice. "She's leaving right now. Go fetch her." He set the receiver down and turned to find Brigitte watching him, her body draped halfway over the back of the couch. "Shoes off the couch," he told her, and she obediently flopped onto her rear, sitting properly. Adelgiese must have put up quite an argument and refusal for Hermann to have let her keep her apartment, for the man knew how strictly his commands were to be followed. He almost wished that he were the one outside bringing her in, but he had a little Standartenführer on his hands at the moment, and what an intimidating Standartenführer it was.

* * *

Another chapter finished, and I'm surprised that no has commented on what they think the staff is up to, but oh well. I'm pleased that the Adelgiese/Landa tension is keeping people interested, because I have a lot of fun writing their scenes, and to answer the question of one reviewer, the tension between them will build. It's only natural given their personalities, and I wouldn't call it romance, but future developments will definitely get more personal.

REVIEW.


	9. Chapter 9: L eading Toward

Chapter 9: Leading toward...

The dress in Adelgiese's hands was perfect for Brigitte, from the light blue color to the delicate material, and she held it while the girl searched her closet for the matching shoes. Landa was taking the girl to one of Goebbels' big parties, seeing as how he was handling security at such events, and was considering taking his daughter to some upcoming premier as well. All Adelgiese knew was that Goebbels was trying to build excitement for his latest film, and apparently the Reich's propaganda master was treating himself to an indulgent vacation in Paris in the meantime. Zissel had been most telling when it came to the man's social preoccupations, some of the details being things that Adelgiese would have preferred not knowing.

"Here they are!" Brigitte announced, holding up a pair of white shoes. The girl was obviously excited for the party, but Adelgiese only had reservations as she began undressing the child. This would be the first time that Landa made a public appearance with his daughter, which would solidify Brigitte's place in his life, officially labeling and legitimizing her. Landa was obviously now planning to keep the girl close and flaunt her as his daughter, the very thought making Adelgiese frown as she lowered the blue dress over Brigitte's raised arms. Then again, unexpected as this turn was, Brigitte would be well protected as Landa's daughter, and Adelgiese didn't expect Landa's general behavior to change or for him to suddenly take a more intense interest in the child because of it.

"It's pretty," Brigitte proclaimed, looking at her dress.

"Come stand on this chair," Adelgiese instructed, placing said chair before a tall, standing mirror. "I'll fix your hair for you."

"Danke," Brigitte chirped, merrily climbing onto the chair and facing the mirror. "Aunty," she whispered. "Why can't you come to the party too?" Suddenly there was an apprehension in the girl's eyes that made Adelgiese softly and soothingly begin combing the child's fine hair.

"I know that you're nervous," she stated, smiling sadly. "But the colonel took care of the men who tried hurting us. Just don't wander away from him, okay? Stay close so that he can protect you." The advice sounded so unnatural coming out of her mouth, but Adelgiese didn't want Brigitte to be scared every time that she stepped foot outside.

"The man with the scar's coming with us," Brigitte complained.

"He won't bother you. Now stop fidgeting so that I can braid your hair."

"Is the lovely young lady ready to go?" Landa asked through the door, softly rapping against it.

"Almost," Brigitte answered, Adelgiese's fingers working to twist her hair into an elaborate braid while the bedroom door opened. In stepped Landa in full SS regalia, medals pinned to his chest, hat set at an angle, and the man generally looking dashing as he smiled at his daughter. "Hallo," Brigitte beamed. "Del, what are you doing? I can't see."

"It's a special kind of braid," Adelgiese explained. "My mother used to do it for me when I was your age." Indeed, the braid was quite complex and difficult, but the end result was elegant and impressive as it neared completion. Adelgiese could remember the feel of her mother's fingers in her hair, smoothing and twisting, loving words flowing from the woman's lips to promise Adelgiese that she and Elfriede would be the prettiest girls at the ball. _So long ago_, she thought, feeling as though Landa were intruding on a sacred moment between her and the child. Families were suppose to mean love and tenderness—braiding a child's hair, and sharing family traditions.

"Look at how pretty it is," Adelgiese said, holding up a handheld mirror so that Brigitte could see how the braid looked. The girl's smile unexpectedly slipped in response, sadness creeping into misting eyes as one small hand reached to touched the lovingly arranged hair, and all the while, Adelgiese watched Landa's reflection in the mirror, her back to him.

"Mutti used to do this..." Brigitte's sorrowful comment trailed off as her hand fell away.

"Mothers make their little girls look pretty like this," Adelgiese knowingly sighed. She looked up and saw Landa studying her, his face unreadable as she planted a kiss on the girl's head. "And fathers are supposed to spoil their daughters rotten," she stated, breaking Brigitte's morose mood, but not entirely. A mother was not something easily released to drift into the past.

"Is my princess ready at last?" Landa asked.

"Yep. Catch me, Del!" Brigitte jumped into Adelgiese's open arms, and the aunt lowered the girl to dangle a few inches above the carpet before releasing her, but Brigitte was still holding onto her aunt's blouse, not quite ready to be dropped. The results were predictable: one of Adelgiese's sleeves was tugged downward and slid from her left shoulder to expose fair skin from her collarbone to her armpit, causing her to silently thank whoever might be listening that her cotton blouse hadn't ripped. But then her eyes traveled to the brand burned into her upper shoulder, and relief melted into panic, the old wound still rough and prominent after years, and now visible to the last man whom she wanted to see it.

_Scheiße._

She scrambled to conceal the wound while Brigitte remained completely oblivious as to what had just transpired, for the girl was already bounding toward Landa. Adelgiese met the man's eyes for but a second, and staring into his searching gaze, she knew that he'd seen the marking. She continued to mentally curse as she tried to brush the issue aside, smiling as if nothing had happened, for what else could she do?

"Have a good evening," she told them.

"I'm sure we will," Landa blankly intoned. "Don't wait up for us. Be polite and say goodbye, Brigitte."

"Auf wiedersehen," the girl waved, Landa leading her from the room. It was only then that Adelgiese collapsed onto the bed, a hand running through her hair as she considered just what this turn of events could mean. Landa had seen the scar—had seen the iron cross burned into her skin—and he would know exactly what that symbol meant. Even a brief glance at the distinctive marking would be enough for him to place it, and she now pulled her shirt aside, staring at the wound that she was always so careful to keep hidden.

Scheiße. Scheiße. Scheiße.

She reached into the front pocket of her skirt and pulled out a lighter, the silver case nestled in her palm as she ran a finger over the iron cross embossed on it. She was sure that Landa had noticed that he was missing lighter by now, and for that she felt a smug sense of satisfaction. Of course, she'd best keep it hidden in her room rather than on her person lest he catch her with it one day, but for these few, brief moments, she flicked it open and watched the flame sway to and fro. One point for her and two for him if she wasn't incredibly careful.

_You do have an entire evening to decide how to handle this_.

With a sigh, she flicked the lighter shut and tucked it back in her pocket, standing and gathering Brigitte's dirty laundry for washing as she considered her ever-changing options. One thing was for certain though: trying to cover up the scar where the colonel was concerned was going to be one hell of a challenge.

**************

His daughter couldn't have looked prettier or more charming as Landa stepped out of the car and offered her a hand like any true gentleman would do. Her fingers slipped into his, and then he was leading her into a building that buzzed with music and pleasant conversation, officers in either the Wehrmacht or the SS turning to glance at the latest arrivals as he did so, and the women on the officers' arms (or hoping to be on their arms) peering sideways while they sipped champagne. Landa was sure that more than a few of these women would approach him, but he wasn't interested in them as his attention was reserved for examining the room's more important occupants. He could see Goebbels at the far end of the room, seated at a round table with that annoyingly snooty interpreter of his nearly draping over him. Otherwise, there was no one of higher rank than himself present, but a few SS men did come close.

"Pretty," Brigitte commented, looking at the elaborately decorated room. Red was the preeminent color featured given the Nazi flags and the roses that sat in tall vases atop white tablecloths, the venue for this party being a rented restaurant. A dance floor was cleared at the room's center, and a string quartet was playing in the corner, but otherwise, this was a tame and more relaxed affair than other parties, and Landa could see that several Wehrmacht officers had also brought along their families.

"Can I play with the other children?" Brigitte excitedly asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. It only then occurred to Landa that she hadn't seen or spent time with people her own age since coming to him, but he wasn't about to send her out to play with anyone whom he didn't know on some level or without an armed guard. Adelgiese had been the exception, and only because he'd known how protective she was of the girl—that and the woman was smart enough to get herself out of trouble.

"You can play after I introduce you to several colleagues of mine," he told her, watching Brigitte send an enthusiastic wave to another girl, who smiled in reply. It was amazing how children exemplified such a strong need for human connection.

"What's a colleague?" she asked.

"Someone that works with me," Landa explained. "They're all very curious to meet you." Which was the absolute truth. Landa smiled as he swiped a flute of champagne off of a passing tray, thinking about the rumors that had probably reached his associates. No one that knew him would think of him taking in an illegitimate child, but this was working in his favor in more than one way. Already, he could see that people were regarding Brigitte's wide-eyed happiness with pleased expressions, and then their eyes turned to him, the same regard being bestowed on him. It wouldn't do to only be known as an executioner among some of these people, and what a duplicity this would give him, tempering the rumors of his cruelty with the sight of a proud father.

There were men in the Wehrmacht who were very influential and who denounced him as a butcher, which was complete nonsense and hypocritical. They simply didn't want his power in France eclipsing their own, for he often acted without direct orders or consideration for the army, but he wasn't a soldier for them to boss around; he was an investigator, an SS men with a job to complete, and oh how the Wehrmacht envied the sway of the SS in this city. Let them denounce him, for it meant nothing, and let them swallow their words about him as his daughter smiled at them. Sometimes playing with these men was too enjoyable.

"Herr Oberst Landa," a man greeted, approaching him in a Gestapo uniform and offering a smart salute. "It's a pleasure to see you here."

"Major Hellstrom," Landa returned, pleased to see a man whose cunning was ideal for coordinating operations together. He'd worked with this man on more than one occasion, their paths frequently crossing, and he knew that the youthful face of this ally hid the vicious personality that lurked beneath it. Quite clever really.

"This must be the daughter that I've been hearing about. The rumors have gone wild since that street shootout." Hellstrom smiled down at Brigitte, the girl returning the smile but keeping close to Landa's legs, her eyes bashful.

"Brigitte, this is Major Dieter Hellstrom," Landa stated. "Say hello."

"Hallo," she shyly offered, slowly extending a hand toward the man.

"A pleasure," Hellstrom crooned with a short laugh, his lips planting a kiss on the back of the girl's hand. "Whenever did you acquire a daughter, sir?"

"She came into my life quite unexpectedly," Landa stated, smiling down at his daughter as she continued to use him as a shield against strangers. "Her mother's dead, and I couldn't find it in my heart to dismiss such a beautiful girl." Brigitte blushed at that, making Landa chuckle.

"You have a way with all women, sir, even the young ones," Hellstrom joked. "You'll excuse me, but I see a lovely woman with my name written all over her."

"By all means," Landa said, moving forward and continuing to introduce Brigitte to figures within the occupation or Nazi Germany. She bore it with the same shyness that she'd used with Hellstrom, but by the tenth person, he could tell that she was getting bored. "Go play," he told her. "But don't leave this room."

"Jawohl," she said, mimicking the others that spoke with him, and quickly bouncing toward several other children. She was cautious at first, standing at a distance and watching, but then edging into whatever the children were playing, and while she moved about, Landa always kept half an eye on her. It would be easy for someone to steal her away if she wandered too far, and he never dismissed the possibility that one of the servers was fighting for the other side. An idiot would be required to try anything with his daughter, but then again, he firmly believed that most people in the world were idiots.

"She's the prettiest little girl that I've ever seen," someone commented.

"You're a lucky man. I hope that the mother is as beautiful." _She was before Schneider shot her_. Landa returned the pleasantries, finding that alcohol made certain tedious company more tolerable, and then found his mind wandering toward Adelgiese as he watched a female server rush to clear the remains of a broken glass. There was no prey here this evening, except perhaps that shy girl trying to clear tables, but he found the effort to bother her worthless as he considered his maid. The burn mark—an iron cross burned directly into her skin like a brand. How had she acquired that? When she'd tried to conceal it, he'd seen fear flash through her eyes, which was the first time that he'd detected such weakness in her. If he hadn't been coming to this party...

"Herr Oberst," Schneider said from behind. "This arrived for you from a Private Scheller." Landa eagerly accepted the folder, eyes moving toward the door where a man in a long coat offered him a nod before departing. Now this, this promised to make the evening one to remember. Refraining from opening the packet and examining its contents right here in the middle of the party was more difficult than he cared to admit.

"To a fantastic evening," he toasted Schneider, draining his glass and than moving toward a side doorway that would offer him some privacy. Anticipation was making his blood thrum with pleasure, and since he had some time before the main course was going to be served...

"Looking for company, Herr Oberst?" a woman purred as he passed her. He glanced over his shoulder, briefly considering the view of an exposed back that this beauty's dress offered, and finding his vision drawn toward the small of her back then lower. It'd been a while since he'd used anyone's services—several weeks to be exact, and she _was_ attractive.

"Perhaps another time," he suggested. Schneider would have caved, but Landa never let the woman control sexual encounters. He liked to make the first move and put them in the position of his liking, directing their movements and making strong, forward women like this quickly learn the extent of their wiles. The sluts thought to gain something from sharing the bed of a ranking officer, but they were instead left with nothing except perhaps the thrill of having bedded him. Really though, _he_ bedded _them_. Never the other way around.

"Herr Oberst," an unknown SS man interrupted him. "Herr Goebbels is asking for you and your daughter to join him." Damn. Landa turned and marched back to the main dining room, the packet in his hands forced to wait until another opportunity.

**********

Brigitte didn't know any of these people, but she was so excited to see other children that she almost forgot her bashfulness, laughing with a brunette as a boy chased them. Giggling, she dodged adults and grabbed the other girl's hand, the two hugging each other as the boy backed them into a corner. He made faces at them, and Brigitte waggled a finger in his face.

"That's not nice," she playfully admonished him, erupting in more giggles as he pounced closer.

"Jürgen," an adult man chided, interrupting their game as he walked closer in his dark suit. "Leave the girls alone and come eat. Ada." He held out a hand to the girl whom Brigitte had befriended.

"Coming daddy," the girl beamed, taking his hand. "Maybe, if your daddy says it's okay, you can come play later," the brunette said in parting, and then Brigitte suddenly found herself alone in the corner of a crowded room.

_A father.._.

It felt good to have a father, and the Oberst had brought her here tonight, telling everyone that she was his daughter. He _was_ her father, and he was a nice father, wasn't he? He wasn't her old father, and he didn't push her on swings or tickle her or sing to her, but he had the best smile in the world, and aunty told her to trust him. He kept her safe from the man with the scar too.

Feeling a flush of warmth, she urgently looked for her new father, wanting to see him more than anything. These other children were joining their families at tables to eat, but where was her father, her family? She wished that aunty was here, or at least someone else who would claim her. Everyone had left her or been taken from her, and she wouldn't let anyone else go. Never! She was going to find her new father, and he was going to hold her and tell her to come sit down and eat just like that other dad. Why were those women looking at her and laughing?

"Lost, little one?" She turned and found Hellstrom looking down at her with a thin smile.

"I can't find Oberst," she confessed, eyes beginning to brim with tears.

"He's over here with us," the kind man offered. "Follow me." Brigitte was all too happy to do so, and as they walked, she finally saw her father sitting at a table amidst other men and several women. His face turned toward her, and she felt the tears evaporating as she ran to him, scrambling onto the chair beside him and setting a hand on his lap.

"I'm ready to eat...vatti." He said nothing but planted a kiss on her head. She loved it when he did that.

*************

Vatti.

Landa found himself smiling at the girl and the happy expression that came over her when she said that word. It was the first that he'd heard it from her, but it sounded natural when she spoke it so affectionately. Her entire face lit up when she looked at him, and as the first course arrived, he could see her studying how everyone else sat and ate, mimicking the way in which Hellstrom cut his steak. It was amusing to see the two of them side-by-side, the Gestapo man smirking as the girl told him about her plans to live in a tree one day.

"Hans," Goebbels said, nodding toward the girl and then shaking his head. "Your daughter is absolutely charming—nothing like you at all." The table laughed as Landa shrugged, a waiter approaching with a tray full of flutes.

"She inherited more from her mother, I think," he stated.

"Now don't be modest," Goebbels refuted. "She's got your hair, and..." He begun chuckling. "Dieter's mannerisms." Indeed, she was lifting a flute of champagne with the same simple flourish that Hellstrom had used as a waiter offered drinks around the table, her tiny fingers grasping a fragile stem before anyone could stop her. "Does she also hold her alcohol like you?"

"_That_ I don't know," Landa joked, his eyes on Brigitte as she tentatively sniffed the top of her glass, her nose crinkling in displeasure.

"I would like to propose a toast," someone said. "To the Reich, Goebbels' new film, and beautiful German children."

"Prost!" Everyone downed their drink, and Brigitte awkwardly tried to do the same, only managing one sip before she erupted in gagging coughs. Landa immediately took the glass from her and tapped her on the back, the girl making the most disgusted face that he'd ever seen.

"Ewww," she complained, reaching for water. Everyone laughed, and Landa wondered how his daughter had singlehandedly charmed everyone at the table better than himself. He was pleased with his decision to have brought her as the night wound down to a close, his jacket wrapped around the sleeping girl as he held her in the car and eventually carried her inside of the house. She was safely sleeping in her bed when he quietly entered his own room, the coveted packet in hand as he sealed himself in his bedroom. Adelgiese was sleeping not three rooms away, and now he had what he wanted, or so he hoped. Just thinking about confronting her with his knowledge made him grin.

His clothing was tossed aside as he leaned against the headboard of his bed in nothing but his pants, the packet sitting on his lap as he carefully opened the top, and his fingers moving slowly and carefully as if he were handling some delicate treasure.

_Now I'll know the truth_, he inwardly smirked, the first of several papers falling into his hands, and on the very top, a birth certificate for Adelgiese Hoffman. She was most certainly Elfriede's sister based on this, and the following pages spelled out a story that was as interesting as it was poked with holes. Adelgiese had apparently been a beloved member of her family judging from early photographs, for there was even a photo of her with arms wrapped around her father's shoulders, a huge grin on her face as he cut a cake. That hadn't been long ago either: 1934, when the woman would have been 28, but that was the last photograph.

"What made you leave your family, mäuschen?" Landa spoke to himself, fingers working to unfold a thin letter.

_Standartenführer Landa, _

_ This information comes from a lock box found among the Hoffman's family belongings. When the estate was closed, most of the family's items were left in the house until processing was completed or until someone made a special appeal to claim them. Based on the box's location, it was kept by Herr Hoffman, and everything inside pertained to his daughter Adelgiese. _

_ You'll notice that the documents and photos seem average enough, but there is nothing after February, 1934. I don't know when Hoffman collected the documents, but it appears that he made an effort to completely erase Adelgiese in public and private records. According to several interviews, the transcripts of which I've included, there was an argument and the daughter was disowned. No one connected to the family admits to having heard of her afterwards._

_ Any further questions can be directed to the office. I'm more than happy to handle them. _

_ G. Scheller_

This maid just kept getting more interesting. What could she have done to be disinherited and wiped from record? Perhaps these images of a happy family were superficial, and the burn on her shoulder evidence of a more violent past, but he couldn't be entirely certain. Most families were not as functional as they appeared on the surface at any rate, and hers had likely been no different, the thought causing Landa to briefly reflect on his own younger years. The only son of an old soldier, the best had been expected of him, and while his father might have affectionately ruffle his hair in public, he was never hugged at home. His mother had been another matter entirely though, for she had always overcompensated in trying to please him, her softness making it easy to play his parents off of one another, which he'd learned to do at an early age. However, would anyone have guessed such things about his family from portraits and photos?

"What does your smile hide?" he asked a photo as he examined it. It was a shot of a young man lifting Adelgiese and carrying her toward a pond, the woman's arms flailing in protest and Elfriede laughing in the background. This was the kind of candid shot that was hard to deny, revealing a playful atmosphere that suggested a better home life than his own as it did. And the shadow seen on the ground in the photo? Definitely her father, meaning that he'd been involved in her life on more than a remote basis.

_So what happened, and why is she so desperate to conceal her past?_

Adelgiese was not as innocent as she seemed. No one who could hold their own in keeping secrets from him was simple or pure. This woman could lie convincingly enough to even get by Hellstrom, he was sure, and according to Zissel she was flirtatious and kind whereas Schneider called her beautifully cold. To him she behaved proper, but only just, making him wonder how many faces she had and where she'd learned to play the game. Had it been at home, as had happened with him, or somewhere else? Landa found himself hankering after a cigarette as he perused the interviews and remaining documents that Scheller had sent.

_"She was always friendly. I can't imagine what happened, and after she was going to marry that handsome, young officer."_

_"I never trusted her. She was quiet and went out on her own against Heinrich's wishes. My daughter told me that the girl used to climb out of her window and run across the balcony's roof to break into her own parents' room. Imagine!" _

The pages flipped one by one, and while they contained plenty of telling information, Landa found nothing that would explain the rift in the family. Although, it did appear that Adelgiese had always had her differences with her old man. Setting the packet aside, he made plans to confront his favorite maid, for whatever had happened, she didn't want him to know, and the packet wouldn't give him the answers that he sought. Her own resistance would be her undoing, for whenever someone didn't want him to know something, it was always for a good reason, and that reason was almost always political given his current position and allegiance. The first kink in Adelgiese's armor was this familial connection, which was a string in his hands, and if he pulled on it, more of the story would unravel. He had a feeling that Adelgiese knew this as well, and her awareness was only going to make this all the better.


	10. Chapter 10: I n the Woodwork

Chapter 10: In the Woodwork

Staring at the door wouldn't accomplish anything, but staring seemed a much better option than leaving her bedroom, and so Adelgiese stood there, face darkened with unpleasant thoughts, just staring. One would think that an entire night would have prepared her for this, but she doubted that an entire week could ready her for facing Landa should he ask unwanted questions.

_Deflect them like always._

_ Lie through your teeth._

The problem was that the man seemed to be a walking lie detector, but even _he_ had to be fallible. If she couldn't sound utterly convincing when discussing her scar, she could at least distract him and delay his prying—a tactic that would quickly wear off, but it was better than nothing. Maybe he wouldn't even broach the subject.

"Stop lying to yourself," she scoffed, moving to the bedroom window and looking down at the yard. What was Marlene doing with a blanket and a basket at this early hour? She watched with interest as the woman disappeared into the gardener's shed, the door shutting tightly behind her as the morning sun rose a little higher into the sky. When the Frenchwoman finally reappeared several minutes later, her once ladened arms were bare, making Adelgiese frown as she continued to stare at the shed. What time was it anyway? 6:30? She needed to get dressed and ready for the day lest her work load become doubled.

Choosing a dark blue blouse and a cream-colored skirt, she combed her hair out and slipped into her shoes, enjoying her privacy as she did so. Having a room in the house was actually quite nice given the room's beauty and comfort, but she would still take her old apartment over this luxury any day—not least of all due to the effect that this likely had on the staff. Since the medicine incident, Elle had been less vocal about her dislike of Germans, but on the whole, Adelgiese found that dwelling among the officers like a guest was not proving beneficial to her reputation. And on top of that, Landa could now keep a closer eye on her.

_The wonderful complications of my life_, and she exited her room, breathing in relief when she realized that the hallway beyond was empty. She almost expected Landa to be lurking around a corner, waiting to pounce, but she smiled when she realized how ridiculous she was being. The colonel been out late last night, which she knew for a fact since she'd stayed awake, just waiting for him return with Brigitte. How strange it had been to see him carrying her niece cradled in his arms, the girl wrapped in his jacket and sleeping. He'd looked so unassuming at that moment—as if he were a normal man and even a loving father simply keeping watch over his child. It had eased Adelgiese's fears that the party had negatively impacted her niece, and it'd even calmed her reservations concerning how Landa interacted with the girl when she wasn't present.

Too bad Landa wasn't just a normal man.

Moving to the kitchen to catch a quick breakfast, Adelgiese noticed the tray that was laid out on the counter with toast, butter, milk, and scrambled eggs. She glanced questioningly at Pierre, but received no explanation as she helped herself to a crescent, the flaky, buttery bread nearly melting in her mouth. Now this was a good way to start the day.

"Del," Marlene said, entering the kitchen in her usual, forcefully brisk manner. "The colonel wants his breakfast delivered. Now." And just like that, the crescent lost its joy.

"I need to start on the linen before the others wake up. Can't Elle take it?" she suggested.

"Landa specifically asked for you," Marlene intoned, finishing the conversation. It was on such orders that Adelgiese found herself with a tray balanced on her right shoulder, feet heading straight toward Landa's bedroom. He'd never ordered breakfast to be brought to his room before—sometimes to his study, yes, but the man didn't seem to put much emphasis on morning meals, as if a cup of coffee was enough to fuel him until lunch. She wondered if he was still in bed as she knocked on his door, her face adopting a neutral expression as she did so. This was far worse than standing in a basement to watch bullets being put through heads, and with that thought, she focused on preventing the tray that she carried from shaking in time with her nerves.

"Come in," Landa called, voice muffled by the door. Blue eyes hardening, Adelgiese stepped inside, finding the room vacant and the bed already made, but the bathroom door was half-way open, the sound of running water filtering through the opening. She heard something metallic tap against the sink. Perhaps he was shaving?

"Guten Morgen, Herr Oberst," she greeted, sounding friendly for the sake of appearances. "Where would you like your breakfast?"

"The desk beside my bed, bitte." Well, at least the man sounded as chipper and friendly as usual, but Adelgiese's suspicions would not be waylaid so easily. She walked around the king-size bed, tray sliding from her shoulder as she moved to set it down, but the desk was cluttered with papers, and she didn't want to annoy Landa by damaging his documents. She'd just slide them aside, and then...

Adelgiese's breath caught in her throat, and she would have dropped the tray were she not already resting it on the edge of the desk, her eyes fixed in horror on a large photo that sat atop the other documents. Elfriede. Father. Mother. Wolfgang. Heinrich. The familiar faces of her family members met her gaze one by one, each smiling countenance watching her from the photograph as if they could actually see her, their carefree expressions rattling her to the core. This vacation photo had once sat framed on the desk in her father's study, and he'd often joked about her eyes being closed in this picture, but he'd kept it anyway. That was her in the sundress—the girl with the grin cemented in place, daddy's favorite as suggested by the arm that he had around her shoulders.

_Oh my God._

Adelgiese resisted the urge to pull away from the sight before her, the emotions that the photo evoked nearly suffocating her. Elfriede had said that the photo disappeared from father's desk immediately after the pronouncement of exile, but it hadn't been destroyed as Adelgiese had always assumed. Like the mail that he didn't want to keep, she'd always imagined her father throwing the photo into the fireplace with contempt, but no; he'd kept it all of those years, and she could hear the faint sound of a crack forming within her heart—a sound that rivaled the beating of her heart as she remembered where she was: Paris. Shaving. Landa. Not good.

Adelgiese lifted the photo with reluctant hands, one finger brushing across her father's face. How had Hans Landa gotten his hands on this? This wasn't even suppose to exist anymore, and to find it here...No, it was private, personal, something that an SD officer was never meant to touch with his inquiring hands. Damn it, but for Nazis to stick their hands down into the cracks of someone else's tragedy stank of desecration. What did Landa's cold eyes see when he looked at his picture?

_Clink_. And the sound of trickling water ceased.

"I hope that you didn't want jelly, sir," she loudly spoke, hiding the photo beneath the other documents, and sliding the tray to the desk's center. "I didn't bring any, but if you'd like, I can fetch some." The bastard had no doubt placed the photo there knowing that she'd see it. He could only be trying to unsettle and bait her—threaten and make her cower in fear of his knowledge—but she settled for lifting the fork meant for his eggs and buffing it with her apron.

"I'll do without the jelly," Landa stated, the bathroom door fully opening. Adelgiese turned and found him watching her expectantly, his gaze intent and powerful as he offered her a smile. He was only wearing grey slacks and a brown dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His blond hair was uncombed and messy, but his impeccable image was hardly tarnished as he strolled closer, the easy control of his casual movements undercut by the imposing nature of his presence.

"Guten Morgen," he belatedly greeted, and somehow Adelgiese's hand ended up in his, his lips brushing across her knuckles. "You're a lovely sight to wake up to, Fraulein Hoffman."

"Back to being formal?" she asked, retracting her hand and offering him a small smile. "Really, Oberst, I never know what mood you'll be in. Enjoy your breakfast, sir."

"Are you so anxious to leave my presence?" Landa asked in mock hurt. "Please, have a seat. I could do with some company besides that of my men. It's all business once I walk out of those doors." _And it's not now?_ Adelgiese found herself staring the man down as he lifted a slice of toast and took a tentative bite, but holding his gaze was more difficult than ever.

"I'm afraid that I have other work to do, sir," she told him. "And I'm only a maid. I'd prefer not to be called a hussy behind my back merely because I dally in your room. Slander ought to at least be accurate." Her bluntness made him smile, and his delight seemed strangely genuine as he retrieved a chair from the other side of the room and set it near his own at the desk. Naturally, he also set her chair facing his so that she would have to look at him. "What could we possibly discuss, sir?" she stiffly asked.

"We have much to discuss, Fraulein," Landa darkly intoned. "Sit." He pointed at the chair, and Adelgiese did as instructed, but not without calmly crossing her legs and resting her hands in her lap as if she hadn't a care in the world. All of her troubling thoughts seemed to vanish as she sat with him, their legs nearly touching, and the danger of the moment overriding her senses. He was too close for comfort, their proximity such that she could not direct her vision elsewhere, and she could even smell his aftershave, the minty scent wafting over her as his smile faded into a sterner expression.

_ Do your worst, Herr Oberst, _and if his returned stare was any indication, he was delighted to meet her challenge.

"I take an interest in my staff, Del," Landa casually began. "You're my responsibility in many ways—your conduct, welfare, job performance, und so weiter—and if anything is unsatisfactory, I purge it from my life as I would anything else. I don't tolerate insubordination or undo difficulties from my men, so you can imagine how I am with household staff. And, I admit," he chuckled, shrugging his shoulders as he took a sip of milk. "I have my share of enemies, so I must be careful when it comes to those around me. I wouldn't want to be stabbed in the back."

"Are you dissatisfied with my work, Oberst?" Adelgiese asked.

"Not at all," he said, sounding surprised. "You've been an absolute delight. Your sister—now she was a bit grating at times, but you," he smiled, "you aren't a thing like her despite the familial resemblance. Why, from prior experience, I would guess that she'd be in hysterics by now, and you _know_ how I feel about hysterical women. No, you're much more controlled, Del, and I feel that I've done you a great disservice by trying to compare you to your sister. Do forgive me for that."

That spark in his eyes. He was sickeningly thrilled to back her into a corner, the charming bastard. Palms sweaty, Adelgiese tilted her head to the side with a stony expression.

"And forgive _me_ for being blunt," she replied, deciding that she wasn't going to play this game. "You obviously know who I am, Oberst. So are you going to put a bullet between my eyes or simply dismiss me?" His smile dropped immediately as he set his fork aside and gave her his undivided attention. There was a coldness to his expression that matched her own as he studied her solid countenance, and she couldn't deny that his focus made her acutely aware of her faults. He wasn't the only one who could remain calm while facing an opponent though, and if she was going to be punished for her deceit, she would at least leave this world with dignity and defiance.

"Very well, my dear," he allowed. "I was trying to be polite, but if the lady wants bluntness, that's what she'll get. What are you doing working as a maid in my household, Adelgiese? What is the daughter of a rich man doing as a maid in the first place?" Her eyes briefly landed on the gun sitting atop his desk, and she suspected that he'd intentionally left that there as well. "There's no need to be nervous," he stated, having seen the direction of her gaze. "I've no reason to harm you unless you give me a reason. Now, why aren't you in Berlin sipping cocktails with the elite instead of scrubbing their toilets?"

"And if I refuse to answer?" she sharply asked. Landa began to answer, but she dismissed his formulating words with a thin, forced smile. "No, I'm not that foolish, Herr Oberst. You're right; I'm Elfriede's sister, the one that was father's favorite until 1934. I'm surprised that you have such an interest in my past, sir. Whatever I was, I'm now nothing but a maid."

"Am I suppose to believe that when you've been lying to me this entire time?" Landa asked, eating his eggs as if they were discussing something of no importance. "Don't be so tense, Del," he told her, setting the fork aside and wiping his mouth with a napkin. "This is a formality and questions that need to be asked given our situation. If I thought that you'd try to kill me, we wouldn't be having such a pleasant time right now. I'm afraid that work usually requires me to be much less obliging, but please, continue. You were telling me about what happened between yourself and your father in 1934."

She tucked hair behind her ear and stared at his expectant face.

"More milk, sir?" she asked, raising the pitcher and holding it above his empty glass.

"Bitte." And she felt his eyes traveling down the length of her arm to her shoulder where the scar was. He seemed genuinely pleased as she set the pitcher aside, a sigh escaping her lips.

"I cannot help but be nervous, Oberst," she admitted. "I have not shared this story with anyone, and I fear losing my position on your staff." _And fear you digging for more information if this doesn't satisfy you_. "As you've noticed, I take a special interest in your daughter. She is my niece, and I don't wish to be forced to leave her side because of this mistake." _Please believe it_. It sounded convincing enough given that her words were grounded in truth.

"1934, Fraulein," Landa simply stated, sounding professional as he took a giant gulp of milk, but the action didn't fool Adelgiese's sharp eyes. She could see that he was hiding a smile by pressing the glass to his lips. Something was pleasing him, and she wondered if it was her discomfort or his ability to see through her attempts at delaying him. How much did he already know or suspect about her past? Any lie could be her downfall.

"I was engaged to an officer in the SA," she honestly stated. "It was my father's choice, not mine. I only accepted the man's proposal under pressure, and then I convinced myself that it might not be so bad. To be honest, I didn't know the man well, so it was easy to tell myself that my objections were groundless. I figured that I had enough time to grow acquainted with him, and enough time to escape the marriage if I wanted to, but one evening my fiance," and a note of disgust crept into her voice. "One day he came to a dinner party and bragged about a violent raid on civilians." She boldly met Landa's eyes and allowed him to see the disapproval in her expression, her voice emotionless.

"We were in my father's house and surrounded by his friends, but I didn't care," she continued. "I knew what raid my fiance was referring to, even if he thought that I was ignorant. So I got my message across in a simple gesture that even he could understand: I threw my engagement ring at his head. My father was so enraged when I proceeded to argue with him in front of the guests that he publicly disowned me until I 'saw fit to change my attitude'. That is why I'm a maid, sir. I have to support myself somehow, and it was hard enough on my own in the city without a child."

There. She's said it, and to his credit, Landa was attentive and charming enough to wordlessly encourage her to tell more of the story than she'd intended to.

"So you came to me," he concluded, face thoughtful. "But why hide your identity? I'm an expert at finding and identifying people. You must have had great confidence in your acting abilities, but even actors give away too much about themselves by the roles that they choose."

"I thought a maid beneath notice, sir."

"A woman of your beauty?" he teased. "Inconceivable."

"I'm no actress," she sighed, as if weary of the lies. "I merely wanted to provide for my niece and not draw attention to myself. You _did_ have my sister killed, and I didn't think that you'd allow me to stay with the girl as a guest. It would be impractical to do so. A maid, however, is perfectly practical, and when she does her job well, someone who's always present but ignored. If I was wrong, sir, I offer my sincerest apologies, but my only motivation was to avoid trouble."

"You seem to invite trouble wherever you go, my dear," Landa mused, sitting back with a slight smile that almost conveyed fondness. What he was thinking behind those brown eyes of his was anyone's guess, and guess Adelgiese did as she faced him. He was unlike anyone she'd ever met before, and he almost looked boyish with his messy hair and faint smile, but his eyes were again shifting toward her shoulder, dispelling the relaxation that had nearly settled over them. Even if he accepted her latest apology and explanation, there seemed to be no cure for his curiosity except utter exposure of another's secrets. The unearthing of those secrets would undoubtedly cause stress and frustration, but not for him—not, that is, unless he couldn't learn what he wanted to know for once.

"Unbutton your blouse and show me your right shoulder," he suddenly ordered.

_He doesn't trust you. _

Adelgiese didn't move as he waited, torn between continuing to sound apologetic or smacking him as she was sorely tempted to do. He'd been playing with her this entire time, for he obviously knew more about her past if he was asking about that scar with such a serious face. Maybe he was only fishing for leads, waiting to see how she reacted to his request and what she would say about the scar. Brown met blue, and her hands wanted to move under his directing stare, but she kept them still, mouth dry as his knee brushed against hers.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

"Herr Oberst," Schneider's voice called through the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's urgent."

"Ein Moment." Adelgiese was still staring into his eyes when Landa rose and stood beside her shoulder, one of his hands brushing hair away from her neck to expose soft skin.

"You're making me uncomfortable, sir," she stated, raising her hand to grab his before he could reach for anything besides her hair. His skin was warm against hers as she tilted her head to show him a relaxed but shy face. "Will you allow me to stay, Herr Oberst? I'll continue to earn my keep, and I swear that I'll never hurt you or Brigitte." He bent, bringing his lips close to her ear as one of his fingers ran across her jawline.

"Of course you wouldn't," he said, his voice somehow feeling like a threat and caress at the same time. "We'll talk another time. Keep to your duties until then, and Adelgiese." She looked up to find his face unreadable. "If you ever betray my trust again, I might not be so kind." Then his hand was gone, and she was hurrying to collect the tray while he opened the door for Schneider. "What's so urgent?"

"Der Führer would like to attend the premier," Schneider answered, voice hushed as Adelgiese passed him. She glanced at Landa, who was watching her, and then went straight for the kitchen, having bought herself time once again. He wasn't sated; that she could see, but the colonel apparently didn't think of her as a threat either. He wouldn't execute or fire her, but now he had a threat in his arsenal, and she wondered how her interactions with him would continue now that he knew of her relationship to Brigitte.

"I'll handle it," Landa told Schneider, Adelgiese already out of hearing range. "But do me a favor, major. Call Scheller. Tell him to find an incident report involving the burning of an iron cross on a woman's shoulder. It will be listed as unsolved, the woman involved unnamed, and tell him to check political unrest files in Berlin first. He can skip Frankfurt for now, although I'm looking for information on the same woman. Tell him to get it done as soon as possible."

"Jawohl."

**************

Marlene and Elle kept to themselves as they walked down the street and then into a simple dish shop, porcelain finery displayed in the windows, and no customers present to disturb them. The man at the counter merely nodded in acknowledgment as they passed, and they left the merchandise behind as they entered the store's back room where boxes were stacked atop one another. Some even had a swastika burned into the wood, marking the dishes as ones to be shipped to German officials who were probably using them at state dinners. The thought made Marlene frown as the man awaiting her arrival looked up from where he sat on a rickety stool.

"You're finally here," he greeted. "Marlene. Elle."

"Jacob," Elle sweetly smiled, receiving a grin in return.

"We have to be careful when we go out," Marlene stated, ignoring the tender look that had passed between the two younger rebels. "There is a new maid in the house—a German. She's probably working for Zissel, and she's always nearby."

"They gave her David's room," Elle complained. "And she insists that it's not her doing."

"Maybe it isn't," Marlene harshly interjected. "Did she or did she not save the medicine that you foolishly dropped, Elle?" The younger woman shut her mouth, and Jacob laughed, his thick, brown hair hanging about his face and in desperate need of a haircut. He'd stopped grooming himself since going into hiding, but Marlene thought that the wilder look matched his mischievous face with its dimples and round nose.

"We can't spare much time," she continued. "What did you want to talk about?"

"The others want to take a shot at Landa. He and his men have already uncovered and executed more Jews in the city than all the other investigators combined, and he just got the Red Cap."

"No," Elle gasped, blond curls bouncing as her head jerked toward Jacob. "You can't be serious. What's happened to Plan Hell then?" Marlene didn't know what this 'Plan Hell' was, and she didn't care as she watched Elle and Jacob lock eyes. There were priorities that needed to be handled before Elle ran off and got herself involved or killed in more aggressive actions against the Nazis, and she wouldn't risk the young woman ruining their chances to save the charge that they'd been given.

"The plan's done for," Jacob said, sounding dejected. "Which is why Landa needs to be killed. He's too good at what he does to be ignored, and our best chance at catching him off guard is to attack him while he's at home."

"Out of the question," Marlene bluntly stated, cutting his argument short.

"Mama Marlene!" Elle pleaded. "We have a chance to help everyone."

"I know," she replied, green eyes stilling Elle's tongue. "I'm not against attempting to kill Landa. I will strangle the bastard myself if and when I get the chance, but no one is entering that house with murderous intentions until we get the boy to safety. If something happens to us, he'll die, and I won't let that happen after everything we've risked to keep him safe."

"You're right," Elle grudgingly conceded. "But where can we send him that's safe? And how?"

"I might be able to help arrange something," Jacob offered, standing from the stool. "But it will take time, and Landa caught the last group that tried leaving the city. He has everyone too scared to breath let alone move. I'm not sure..." He shook his head and fixed Marlene with a stern stare. "You're certain that you won't help us unless the boy is safe?"

"That's what I said, and I won't change my mind."

"I see," Jacob frowned. "If that's how it must be, do everything that you can to get the boy to safety or at least moved to another house. I can't keep telling everyone to wait for my signal when their families and friends are dying." _We've all had our losses_, Marlene mused, wondering if she was being selfish. It was a foolish question really, for of course she was being selfish, but she refused to risk the last life of the only family she'd ever known. It was a selfishness that she felt entitled to as Jacob moved aside a crate to reveal a trapdoor.

"Until then, ladies," he said in departure. "Elle." He blew her a kiss, and then he was gone, Marlene hiding his makeshift home by replacing crates atop the trapdoor, and then she turned to Elle, who looked decidedly malcontent.

"Let's go home," Marlene said, leading the way back toward the streets.

"It doesn't feel like home anymore," the younger woman whispered from behind, and Marlene silently agreed. It _didn't_ feel like home, but that was a blessing, for she didn't want to feel any connection or guilt when the time came to desecrate those familiar rooms by painting them with blood.

***************

Something was going on, and Adelgiese intended to find out while Marlene and Elle were out of the house. Old Guy had the day off, and Pierre was busy, so if she went around the house the long way...

She approached the gardener's shed quickly, making herself discreet as she slipped inside and shut the door behind her. The small building smelled of dampness and grease, tools hanging from the wall, and empty flower pots stacked in neat rows. There were also several boxes—large, old things with faded lettering on the side. It was difficult to tell, but she was certain that the smallest one, which sat atop the other two, said candles. An assortment of flower bulbs were stored inside of it, the knotty, brown masses nearly bursting from beneath the lid.

Nothing looked suspicious, and Adelgiese was about to leave when she heard the cough, the sound muted but audible. Her eyes trained on one of the lower boxes as the sound repeated, followed by a strained silence that left her unnerved as she moved smaller boxes aside to expose one of the largest ones. Hands gripped the edges of the a wooden lid as another cough sounded, this one more strangled and followed by the distinct sound of a sniffing nose.

_Please let me be wrong. _

The lid rose, but only by a fraction—only enough that she saw the fearful, narrow face and the tearful, panicked eyes set above a small mouth open and gasping for air. The boy's skin was so pale, and Adelgiese wondered how long he'd been hiding here, his body seemingly petrified as he remained in his cramped position. It had to be horribly uncomfortable, and in his pitiful state, he clutched a blanket to his chest as if it could protect him from her.

"Mein Gott," Adelgiese breathed, replacing the lid and leaning against the box, the boy beginning to cry from inside. He sounded as unwell as he looked, and Adelgiese cursed her curiosity for bringing her into this shed. It would have been better to know nothing of this child.

"Your secret is safe," she spoke in French. "I will tell no one." The others crates returned to their original positions, and she left the shed, eyes distant as she entered the house. One boy had survived his family's massacre, but how he had escaped Landa's detection was a mystery. Surely the shed had been searched, and the hiding spot was fairly obvious, so how was the boy still there? More importantly, how much longer could one person remain hidden so close to the Jew Hunter?


	11. Chapter 11: E asy Does It

Chapter 11: Easy Does It

The door opened and closed, causing Landa to snap out of his dreamless state and tense for action. Keeping his body still, he listened to quiet footfalls, his hand inching toward the pistol beneath his pillow. People did not intrude on him during the rare occasions that he allowed himself to indulge in a full night's sleep, so who was in his room at this godforsaken hour? Dawn had only just arrived, fresh, morning light trickling through the curtains and falling across his bed with lazy tranquility, and his men asleep in their own rooms. And so he warily listened to footsteps and the clinking of glass, which were the only sounds to break the quietness of his chambers this early in the day.

"Vatti!" a soft, urgent voice called. It was only then that Landa turned his head from where he lay on his back, looking at the girl who stood several feet away from his bed with a small tray in her hands. The serving platter was stacked with random, breakfast items, all of which wobbled precariously as the girl struggled to hold it. It was a miracle that she hadn't spilled anything yet.

"Oh, good," the girl pronounced. "You're awake." She then moved forward with her load, her white nightgown brushing across the floor as she walked, and Landa began to rise from beneath his blankets.

"What are you doing, Brigitte?" he asked. Of course, the answer was quite obvious, but he wanted to know the why behind it. _Why_ had his daughter awoken at the crack of dawn to serve him breakfast when there were maids for that? The girl really did try her hardest to please him, and that devotion was rather amazing in and of itself. Such a keen desire to serve another person was a rarity in life, and when it had no double motive, it was even rarer.

"Don't get up!" the girl desperately squeaked, causing Landa to stop moving. "This is breakfast in bed. How can I give you breakfast in bed if you're not in bed?" He laughed, unable to help himself given her honest panic. Well, if she insisted on pampering him, he wouldn't stop her. He hadn't planned to get up for another hour anyway, and how many times did he find a female yelling at him to stay in bed while she fed him? Never.

"Hand me the tray," he told her whilst moving to sit up against the headboard, shirtless and enjoying the stubbornness of his daughter.

"No," she protested. "I can do it myself." If all of his men had half this devotion... "See?" She had set the tray directly on the floor while she pulled a chair to stand beside the bed. Then she moved the tray onto the chair's seat, providing an impromptu table for her father as she grinned. "Del says that you don't eat breakfast, and that's why you never come downstairs to eat with us in the morning. But you _should_ eat breakfast. It's very important for your health. That's what Del says, and she makes the best rolls for breakfast. Don't tell Pierre though. He'll be jealous."

"Danke, my angel," Landa smiled, eyeing the proffered food with some reserve. The toast looked okay, but whoever had peeled the orange had mutilated it, and the eggs were burnt. "I've never had breakfast in bed in my entire life," he told her, finding that the girl was scrambling up onto the bed and over his legs. She flopped down beside him, almost sitting on his lap as she leaned toward his chest with the expectation of a kiss on the forehead. With a chuckle, Landa rewarded her, finding her affection endearing as she snuggled closer to him.

"Didn't your mother ever bring you breakfast?" Brigitte asked.

"No," he answered. "My father always insisted that I be downstairs and dressed for breakfast. I'm fairly certain that he actually timed me."

"That's too bad." Brigitte's head and its soft, blond hair rested against the bare skin of his chest as he lifted one arm, allowing the girl to slip beneath it and lean against him. "I love you, vatti," she told him, giggling afterwards. Such an affectionate creature, and she was all his. It was _his_ smile that made her gush with happiness, and it was _his_ approval and opinion that made her world revolve. It was empowering when he thought about it, but children grew up, and just as he'd stopped looking up to others in such a blind fashion at an early age, so too would this girl.

"Vatti," she whined. "You're not eating." Then again, he'd been nothing like this girl when he'd been her age, even if he remembered wanting approval and recognition very badly. From his mother, such things had meant nothing, and while he'd wanted his father to be proud of him more than anything for many years, his hope had been in vain. And never, ever had he been bubbly and open like this little cherubim nestled against him.

"Your eggs will get cold," Brigitte pouted.

"Don't whine," he told her. "It's most unbecoming, and you ruin your pretty face when you pout like that."

"Okay," she relented, watching as he took a bite of the toast.

"Delicious," he praised her. With another giggle, the girl squirmed and threw arms around his torso, looking up in concern when Landa unexpectedly sucked in his breath. In her enthusiasm, she'd put pressure on a healing bruise that he'd received during a surprise attack yesterday afternoon, and the damage was fresh enough that even a goodnatured squeeze hurt. The damn car that he'd been riding in had nearly been driven off of the road but vigilantes, sending him flying from the backseat while on a supposedly quiet excursion into the countryside. Needless to say, his men hadn't been very reserved when they finally captured the culprits.

"Vatti?" Brigitte asked, concerned. She was half-kneeling, half-laying over his thighs to get a better look at his right side, where a large, dark bruise spread across still tender skin. Her face immediately contorted in worry, and her suddenly frantic movements nearly caused her weight to shift onto Landa's crouch, but he lifted her off of his lap in the knick of time. He didn't need another injury on top of his bruised side, and now he had exactly what he did not want this early in the morning: a hysterical woman.

"You're hurt!" Brigitte was loudly babbling. "Are you okay? Will you be alright? Are you dying?!" She leapt from the bed, bare feet charging toward the door, and her white nighty billowing about her.

"Brigitte," Landa called, trying to calm her.

"Stay there!" she ordered, holding up a hand in a mock imitation of him. "I'm getting help. Just hold on." The door slammed shut, and Landa remained sitting in bed, eating his toast and finding his daughter's concern touching. She really did love him, the naïve, trusting girl. Whatever she was doing now, he was sure that he'd be entertained upon her return.

**************

"Del!" Brigitte called, pounding on the woman's bedroom door. "Del!" What was Brigitte doing up this early? Adelgiese nearly tripped over the child as she exited her bedroom, having rushed out of bed with the concern that something terrible had happened. Now though, standing there in the hallway in a thin, pink robe that Landa had supplied, she did a quick visual check of Brigitte to find that the girl looked well enough except for her agitated state.

"What's wrong?" she asked, kneeling and brushing hair away from the girl's face.

"Vatti is hurt. Come quickly." And the girl grabbed her hand and yanked her down the hallway until they were outside of the master suite, the child barging in unannounced and taking Adelgiese along for the ride. Now standing in Landa's bedroom, the woman's first thought was that she shouldn't be spending any time with Landa dressed in nothing but a sheer robe through which one could see an outline of her underwear if they were paying attention, and the second was sparked by seeing Landa reclining in his bed, completely shirtless. She really shouldn't be in his bedroom, and it then occurred to her that if the man really was injured and died, she was in huge trouble, but Landa's amused face didn't look anything like that of a dieing man.

"Guten Morgen, Del," he greeted with a smile, casually resting in bed. She'd never seen him shirtless before, but there he was, sitting up against the headboard with a sparse trail of light hair around his navel. She also noticed the present but unpronounced muscles that were evident beneath his smooth skin—not that she was looking for such things.

"I brought her to help," Brigitte was explaining. "She always makes me feel better when I'm hurt. Look what happened to him!" The girl was now pointing at the bruise on Landa's side, expecting Adelgiese to do something about it, but the woman only stared, and not at the bruise either. Landa's eyes had found hers, and that deadly, secretive smile of his was making her think of the boy in the shed and their last conversation. She was grateful that he'd come home late last night, when her room was already locked and the house quiet, for she hadn't wanted to look him in the eyes with her newfound knowledge. She'd heard his boots in the hallway as they'd paused at and then passed her bedroom door, making her wonder if he would enter her room without an invitation. It wasn't a farfetched idea given that he was a man who didn't bother respecting other people's privacy when he wanted something.

_And why would he rush things when you're not going anywhere? _

Adelgiese wanted to called Landa a bastard as she approached his bedside, Brigitte now sitting beside Landa on the mattress and holding his hand.

"You may call Del aunty now," Landa told the girl. "But only around me. To everyone else, she's still Del."

"Is it really okay, Del?" Brigitte asked, frowning and glancing between the woman and her father. Landa looked decidedly annoyed by his daughter's insistence on asking a maid's permission, but Adelgiese stepped in before he said anything about it.

"It's fine, Brigitte," she assured. "We had a long discussion, and he knows that I'm your aunt. We don't have to keep it a secret anymore." That seemed to make the girl happy, but she frowned again as she remembered and insistently pointed at Landa's bruise.

"Will I survive, Nurse Hoffman?" Landa jokingly asked, eyes twinkling.

"My gut instinct is yes," she replied, keeping the conversation light with the girl present. "It looks like it will take a while to heal though. What happened?" Her words were greeted with a subtle smile and Landa beckoning her closer with a single finger.

"How are you going to properly examine my wound from over there?" he teased. "Please. Have a seat." He scooted toward the center of the bed, making room for Adelgiese to sit on the edge of the mattress as he invitingly patted the spot. "Make yourself comfortable." And she had no choice but to slowly advance and sit down where indicated, Landa's leg grazing her hip from beneath the blanket as he lifted his arm so that she could better see his bruise.

"It's ugly," she stated. "You must have had quite an accident."

"An accident, yes," he sarcastically scoffed. Then, with a renewed smile: "Don't be shy, Fraulein. I'm sure that I'm not the first undressed man that you've seen." The subtext to his words was lost on Brigitte as Adelgiese gently touched Landa's side with the tips of her fingers, his skin warm, and his insinuation blatantly ignored.

"Does it hurt?" she asked. "Dumb question, I know. It doesn't feel like you've broken any ribs though." She continued to probe, skin against skin as Landa titled his head against the headboard with closed eyes.

"You know something about medical care?" he asked.

"Not really, but I do know what a broken rib feels like."

"Sharp and painful with each breath," he darkly commented, inhaling as Adelgiese pressed against a tender spot. His eyes snapped open and fixed her with a stare that accused her of having intentionally done that, but she remained passively expressionless as she retracted her hands. Perhaps it had been intentional, for there were at least some freedoms to be had now that she wasn't pretending to be utterly meek and obedient anymore.

"You should put some ice on it," she advised. "You should have done that last night."

"I'll get some," Brigitte enthusiastically offered, wanting to help.

"No," Landa ordered. "Adelgiese will handle it. Why don't you go downstairs and get some toast for her? I'm sure that she's hungry." The girl readily agreed and bounced off the bed, leaving the room as Adelgiese stood. "I know that the bed isn't uncomfortable," Landa stated at his daughter vanished. "So I can only assume that the company is making you move, Fraulein."

"Not at all, sir," she answered. "I am merely tending to your wound. There is an ice bucket in your study, yes?" She disappeared into his bathroom and reappeared with a hand towel. "I'll be right back." He said nothing as she retrieved ice, wrapping some within the thin towel and tying the corners shut. She moved rapidly in her task lest he think that she was snooping about his study, and all the while she thought of his words from the previous day, threatening her should she lie to him again. Telling the complete truth wasn't an option, but he'd already learned so much on his own, and in such a short time.

"Here you are," she announced, reentering his bedroom and sitting on the bed, knowing that to do otherwise would look untoward. She even pressed the cold pack against his side for him. "Keep it there for as long as you can—at least until you need to get up. It will help with the inflammation."

"That's very kind of you," he replied, and Adelgiese kept her eyes fixed on his side as he accepted her offer, his hands brushing against hers as he accepted the task of holding the icepack in place. "I don't suppose that this helpfulness has anything to due with the presence of my daughter."

"Have I ever failed to be helpful, Oberst?" she challenged, crossing her legs. "Even when you didn't know who I was, I did my job well. That won't change just because you've uncovered my family and past. I plan to keep this job so long as you'll have me."

"But you do admit that you're here because of the girl," Landa probed, his voice drawing her eyes back to his face. "Would you kindly pass me a cigarette? I'm an invalid, after all." Adelgiese quietly obeyed and found a pack in his dresser, the man lighting up right there in bed, and his lips expertly blowing smoke out the side of his mouth. Men of his confidence could make such a simple gesture appear almost regal.

"Brigitte is my niece," Adelgiese reminded him, wondering if he had moved closer to her when she wasn't looking, for sitting on the bed yet again, his leg was now pressed directly against her lower back. "I was uncomfortable leaving her in the care of someone that I'd only heard rumors about, and I still don't know you, Herr Oberst. I might not have come here at all if I'd been able to support the girl myself, so you are correct. I don't deny it. I'm here only for her and...and myself. What else am I going to do? Sit in Berlin and let a man like Goering stare at my ass every time I bend over? You're as good an employer as anyone." It felt good to say something that was completely honest, and the results made Landa chuckle.

"I prefer you being forward, my dear," he told her. "It's far more amusing than that quiet maid who tried to keep to herself. _But_." He bit the word off, now watching her with those intense, chocolate eyes again. Couldn't the man give her a single break? She'd hoped that bluntness would temper his curiosity. "You are not in political agreement with what I do, are you Del? Don't look surprised, Fraulein. You were nonplussed by seeing men shot, and for that I commend you, but you were hardly in agreement with my actions."

"And I suppose that women often look pleased to watch men have their brains blown out," Adelgiese sarcastically replied.

"No, but you know exactly what I'm talking about," Landa sternly retorted.

"I stabbed a man," Adelgiese argued.

"You killed him in self-defense—for my daughter, for yourself, whichever. Sacrifice and self-preservation get blurred under such circumstances." He waved his cigarette in the air, smoking it forgotten as he focused solely on her. "The point, my beautiful lady, is that you feed Zissel just enough information to keep his confidence, and everything else that you've done can be linked to either my daughter or self-defense. Don't insult my intelligence by claiming that anything you've done has proven your loyalties." He sounded slightly annoyed with her now, and Adelgiese merely met his gaze, reaching out and taking his cigarette with a single, graceful movement of her wrist. With a quick flick of ash, she had set the confiscated cigarette in her mouth and proceeded to take a long drag from it, blowing the smoke in Landa's direction as his gaze drifted over her lips.

"I mean you no harm, Oberst," she spoke, inwardly nervous given the boldness of her gesture, but it had worked; she seemed to have him mesmerized. "I'm certainly not going to slip something into your coffee, and rest assured, if the staff is planning anything, you'll be the first to know. I won't gamble with my life or Brigitte's, and believe it or not, sir, you mean the world to that girl. I won't see you shot in front of her when she's already lost her mother." She closed her eyes, enjoying the taste of the cigarette, which she'd denied herself for so many years. One slow drag after another. It actually helped calm her in this man's presence.

"Some people make smoking look like an art form," Landa said, slow and measured. "Right now, you look stunning enough to belong to the Louvre that you so love, Fraulein. I wonder what other surprises do you hold." Adelgiese opened her eyes when the weight distribution on the mattress shifted, and suddenly Landa was sitting right beside her, the man reclaiming his cigarette and placing it back into his mouth as he drew closer to her. He even placed one of his arms directly behind her back, his palm pressed to the mattress and his fingers splaying cross it near her spine. She could feel his fingertips gently grazing the silk of her robe, and she wondered if her outfit was still tied tightly or if the front had loosened and now drooped to expose any part of her chest. She wasn't even risking a glance downward to find out.

"I want the truth," he quietly told her. "And I _always_ find out what I want to know in the end, Fraulein—much to the detriment of people who try to hide things from me. It's an instinct really; I have this fantastic ability to tell when other people are lying. Perhaps you'd like to save yourself some trouble and tell me about that scar on your shoulder."

He made telling the truth sound so simple and pleasant, his eyebrows raised in anticipation as he sat beside her like some old friend.

"Everyone has secrets, Oberst," she told him, suddenly defensive and angry enough at his unwanted intrusions to think about slapping him. "And incase you don't know, Herr Oberst, my father spent his entire life trying to control me—to make me do exactly what he wanted. He learned the hard way that I don't just bow to bullying, and I might be a maid now, but I still have some pride, sir, and I demand my privacy when the matter doesn't endanger anyone." Landa's eyes darkened, his face stern and threatening as his presence seemed to grow and envelop her. Adelgiese didn't even notice that the bedroom door had opened until she caught sight of Brigitte.

"But of course," Landa suddenly shrugged with a beaming smile. "I've been most inappropriate in pressing you on what is obviously a sensitive topic. It must be this informality that we've decided to share." He laughed the tension off like it was some sort of mistake, and Adelgiese found herself feeling more in peril than ever before. "You know, I think that I've done us both a favor by locating your family," he continued. "Imagine how boring our relationship would be if I'd never said anything. You'd still be demurely going about your business, and we'd never have such lovely conversation to enliven the morning."

"Vatti," Brigitte said, walking closer. "I have the toast. Here you go, aunty." Adelgiese accepted the food and mechanically ate as Landa stood with the icepack still pressed to his side. Brigitte was smiling up at him, and when he smiled back, it looked much more genuine than any smile that Adelgiese had ever seen on the man's face. And Brigitte...she just adored him, wanting to be with her father whenever possible.

"Did aunty give you the special cure?" Brigitte asked, nearly making Adelgiese choke on her toast. Please, in the name of the everything good and holy, don't let the girl explain what the special cure was. Adelgiese found herself irrationally concentrating on eating her toast as Landa's eyes shifted to her.

"No," he mused. "What's the special cure?"

"A healing kiss!" Brigitte happily explained, arms thrown wide for emphasis. "Del says that a kiss makes everything better."

_Shoot me._

"Really?" Landa was facing her now, and Adelgiese reluctantly looked up at him, noting his amused and borderline predatory expression as he removed the icepack from his bruise. "Would my nurse be opposed to giving her patient the special treatment?" Brigitte was giggling as Landa moved to stand directly before a sitting Adelgiese, his right arm rising to expose his side as he dared her to decline his request. Without even looking at him, she bent the short distance to his lower side, her lips pressing against his damaged skin, and then she was standing, avoiding looking at the triumphant and mocking grin that she was sure he wore.

"Danke," he spoke, lifting her hand to his lips, and then, switching to English so that Brigitte wouldn't understand: "But you'll have to be a bit more persuasive. I am a man who listens to reason, after all." Adelgiese's anger flared at the brazen suggestion, and her face must have betrayed her sudden emotions, for he held up a cautionary hand. "You misunderstand me," he promised, tone dropping to a more serious level. "Prove Zissel's faith in you correct and give me something useful, Fraulein."

"No fair," Brigitte complained. "I don't know what you're saying." The girl was holding onto Landa's leg, tugging on his cotton pants to get his attention. "Vatti, you didn't eat your eggs." Adelgiese and Landa both looked at the burnt mass, and she couldn't help herself. His stern face was too much, as was the thought of this intimidating man being cajoled into eating poorly made eggs by a mere shoot of a girl. She laughed, the rich sound tainted by vindictiveness, but it was a laugh all the same, and Landa's cold eyes quickly turned on her.

"I'm sure he'll eat them, Brigitte," she assured the girl, completely ignoring the colonel. "He wouldn't want to hurt your feelings." She gave the girl a hug and then moved to depart, wondering if she couldn't take one more vengeful shot at the colonel for threatening her. "Enjoy your breakfast, sir," she said as pleasantly as possible, spinning at the door to send him an infuriating wink before leaving. Let him be left cut off and dismissed for once.

_Dangerous_, her mind whispered.

_No shit. _

She wondered when her mental language had become so vulgar, but it was probably from constantly hearing Marlene swear beneath her breath, and the officers here were no better. Dwelling on something so insignificant kept her from thinking about the more severe matters confronting her anyway, but even then, darkness lurked behind her smiling face. She could again picture Landa callously ordering the execution of his enemies, the resulting blood running down a drain to be forgotten, and she suddenly wished to witness that scene again, if only to remind her that this more domestic setting hid a brutally efficient part of her employer. He could be much crueler than seeing him lounging in bed suggested, and if she couldn't remember that when she did something like winking, she might endanger herself.

"He smiled when he ordered a family's death," she reminded herself, mentally repeating a report of said event that she'd heard on the street just yesterday. "He even shot the girl himself, and after they'd almost made it to freedom." The Jew Hunter. He would have marked that family in his little, black book by now. Adelgiese was determined that her name not be added to that book.

* * *

Thanks for the reviews, and as someone pointed out, the chapters spell the story's title. I'd just like to assure everyone that the story does not end once the title letters have all been used. I couldn't possibly wrap the story up so quickly. There's a lot more that's going to happen plot and character wise before the end, which I'm _still_ thinking about. : )


	12. Chapter 12: S tay the Hand of Judgement

Chapter 12: Stay the Hand of Judgement

They knew about her trip to the shed. It was evident in the way that the staff glanced at her—how Pierre tried to act as if everything were normal, and how Elle skirted around being overly insulting. Adelgiese hadn't spoken a word to anyone about her newfound knowledge, but naturally the boy would have said something to one of his guardians, and what truly amazed her was how the subject was being utterly avoided. There was certainly tension in the air though, as if she held an ax over everyone's head and was simply waiting to strike. Or maybe her coworkers thought that she'd already spoken to Landa, and now the colonel was merely dragging out the suspense. Such an idea wasn't difficult to swallow considering the man's flair for drama, and yet, life continued uninterrupted.

Four days had passed since Adelgiese had gone to the shed, and the house remained quiet with Landa absent for the usual, long hours, and Brigitte busy with lessons. Apparently Goebbels was having a difficult time deciding on a venue for his upcoming movie premier, and each time that the man considered a new location, Landa had to inspect the premises, which according to Zissel, annoyed the colonel to no end. It amused Adelgiese to think of her employer being subject to the whims of Goebbels, who was a bit showy himself, and who was currently running about Paris like he was on vacation. In many ways, Landa was the man's opposite (except in their sense of theatrics), and now the colonel was impatiently waiting to end this stupid premier while the government tried to drum up excitement for it.

_Good_, Adelgiese thought. _It will keep him busy_. For if Landa was busy, he would have less time to spend on her, or so she hoped, but Landa possessed energy above and beyond that of most men. He ran hither, thither and yon to complete assignments, and yet he never complained of being tired, even when Adelgiese could see the fatigue in his posture. In the evening, when he lounged in his study, smoking and drinking, she often caught a glimpse of his physical fatigue—the dropping eyelids, slumped shoulders, and how his head would casually list to the side. He looked his years when he unwound in such a manner with his muddy boots tossed aside and his normally witty tongue holding its comments. Sometimes he merely thanked her for getting him a drink rather than bantering with her, but his eyes...they never lost their sharpness.

"More medicine?" Adelgiese guessed as she entered the kitchen. Elle was holding a small, glass vial over the sink, her movements too delayed to hide the item from sight when Adelgiese unexpectedly arrived, and now the frenchwoman was sheepishly staring at the facet. The charged, mute atmosphere made Adelgiese break into a humorless smile as she leaned her back against the wall, Elle still looking distraught. This subject had to be broached eventually though, and the longer that it went without mention, the more time Adelgiese had to consider Landa's offer—not that it was even an offer. He was trying to force her into a decision in order to save herself, but the very thought rankled her, tasting bitter as she considered what message her surrender would send to the colonel: weak, selfish, dependent. And what about the boy?

"He's very sick, isn't he?" she softly asked, leaving her comment vague as Elle turned apprehensive eyes on her. The frenchwoman didn't seem to know how to respond, but Adelgiese could see her body tensing, and she wondered if Elle might not be foolish enough to try something desperate. That would do no one any good, and so she straightened from the wall with a sterner expression. There was no point in dragging this out any further anyway.

"Get Marlene," she ordered, businesslike and unwavering, and her hands already opening the door for Elle, who immediately hurried from the room. The woman's low heels loudly struck the floor with each rushed step, and Adelgiese wondered whether such frantic behavior would be noticed by anyone else in the house. Discussing the subject of the hidden boy was dangerous enough without Elle acting strangely, and so, perhaps silence was safer, but it made Adelgiese uneasy. Keeping secrets had always been easy for her, but standing her ground had always been easier if her resolve was made public. She might have been able to forgive that fiance of hers his brash stupidity had she not publicly thrown her ring at his head. Once everyone had seen that, she couldn't back down, as if doing so would put a black mark on her record.

_Maybe I inherited more from you than I'd like to admit, father._

Adelgiese released a sigh as she leaned both hands against the edge of the kitchen's central table. She focused on the feel of the smooth, polished surface beneath her increasingly calloused hands, and thought of nothing else until the door behind her opened and closed, a faint click signaling the locking of that door.

"Yes?" Marlene's gruff voice demanded, and Adelgiese turned to face the woman, who stood there with a face devoid of warmth. That in itself wasn't unusual, but there was an unnatural wariness to Marlene's stance that looked defensive to Adelgiese. "What do you wish to say, German?"

"That I am silent," came her cool response. "I won't tell anyone about the boy." Marlene's shoulders relaxed ever so slightly, but her face did not soften.

"Then we're done speaking of this."

"Agreed." Adelgiese then moved to leave the kitchen, ready to be done with this business, and having made her decision to reject Landa's pressure. Now she had to live with that decision, but quite frankly, the man could try to buy her as much as he wanted. She'd already told him where they stood, and his attempts to move her would be met with refusal, even if that refusal had to be renegotiated on occasion. She wasn't stupid, after all, and the name of the game could always change.

"Wait," Marlene suddenly spoke. "Shut that door. And don't hover around the window looking nervous, Elle."

"There is something else?" Adelgiese asked, stepping back into the kitchen, but remaining close to the door should a quick escape become necessary. Elle was near the kitchen's rear door, hands folded across her chest, and Marlene was resting one hip against the nearby countertop, her broad shoulders squaring into an imposing stance.

"The boy is sick," the older woman confessed, and the barest trace of weariness was evident in her voice. "_Very_ sick. He needs to see a doctor, but the only doctor that we trust to keep his secret also handles SS patients, and he lives near a guard station." Elle moved closer to Marlene, her weight constantly shifting between her legs as she frowned. "Tonight," Marlene continued, "he doesn't have any patients, and the guard changes at ten o'clock. He will take the boy then and only then. He is completely paranoid and doesn't want to be implicated in helping Jews in any way, shape, or form. Understand?"

"Oui," Adelgiese softly replied. If anyone heard her having this conversation...

"The pigs upstairs might or might not be home," Marlene continued. "Will you do our boy a favor, Mädchen?" Adelgiese said nothing, but thoughtfully eyed this woman who needed her help. "Schneider likes to smoke at his window in the evening. It overlooks the yard. I want someone to ensure that he is not out that window."

"And how would you suggest that I do that?" Adelgiese dryly asked, knowing that Schneider's weakness was women. He'd brought whores home before, and he wasn't shy about his habit either. It was disgusting that he'd do such a thing with a child playing in the hallway outside his room, but some men cared nothing for the presence of innocent eyes. The though of that man's hands on her body after he'd had his way with street women and the diseases that came with prostitution...

"How you distract him is up to you," Marlene stated.

And once would never be enough for Schneider's appetite.

"I cannot promise to distract him," Adelgiese crisply replied, causing Elle's eyes to unexpectedly water. The young woman was turning to face into a corner, but Adelgiese had already seen the shimmer of water across pained eyes. "If I suddenly return the major's attention," she explained, "it will be suspicious. Landa will notice." Which was the truth, and like it or not, spreading her legs for Schneider wouldn't help anyone. Marlene likely understood given her stoic and seemingly contemplative nature, but even if she didn't, Adelgiese didn't particularly care. She wasn't getting sucked into this scheming when she had other responsibilities and charges.

"So you won't help," Marlene soberly allowed. "But you won't hinder either. Fine," and the woman sounded perfectly accepting, even content. "Stay out of our way then."

"Oui," Adelgiese answered. "If I can..." And she fought for the correct French wording. "If I see the chance, I will do what I can." She said nothing further as she left their company, wondering what the night would bring, and comparing the boy to Brigitte since they looked to be about the same age. Children in war—their innocent faces marked as targets when they didn't even understand the conflict. Perhaps the same reality gnawed at Marlene and Elle beneath their exteriors, for where men brought war, so too did they bring suffering to mere children. Brigitte would have befriended the boy in the shed in a heartbeat, but even that wouldn't stop Landa from disposing of a child, and Adelgiese found herself inwardly scowling at the thought.

She was a fan of self-preservation, true, and she wanted nothing to do with the staff's plans, but as she considered the boy and how detached Brigitte was from this mess, she found an old ember within her rekindling. She hadn't felt such a strong pull of obligation for some time, and she marveled that it should still exist. To fan or smother it though? She did nothing but let its soft glow remain, small as it was, as the day lengthened. Sometimes decisions could only be made in the heat of the moment.

****************

"Guten Abend. Where is the colonel?" Adelgiese asked as Schneider entered the house. The staff had been holding its breath all day, waiting to see if and when the officers would return for the evening, and now, an hour before the boy was expected at the doctor's, in walked Schneider. His timing could not have been worse, but Adelgiese let none of her concerns show as she continued mopping the entryway.

"He'll be along any minute," the major told her. "You're looking lovely this evening."

"Thank you, sir," she replied, thankful for small blessings. The boy could be taken out the back yard, so Landa's arrival through the front would mean nothing. Perhaps the boy would make it through all right after all, and if not, she wasn't going to ask questions. "Goodnight," she told Schneider, briskly exiting toward the kitchen with her mop and bucket in hand, for she knew that the others would be there waiting for the appointed time. She wasn't going to distract Schneider or outright help them, but she'd be damned if she let them act unaware of his presence.

"Schneider is home," she simply stated, poking her head into the room. Then she left, heading upstairs with an awareness of Elle walking somewhere behind her, the two glasses in the trailing woman's hands giving her presence away as the cups gently bumped into one another. No doubt the young woman was shaking, but whether in sadness or nervousness, Adelgiese couldn't tell. She didn't even turn to see her coworker heading toward Schneider's room, but instead let herself into her own bedroom, where she kept the lights off as she moved toward the window. Leaning against the frame, she waited for almost ten minutes before Marlene appeared in the yard, the shed door opening and closing behind her. Soon the boy would be freed from his crate, and Elle was ample enough to keep Schneider from brooding and smoking by the window, so the plan was going well.

"Please make it," Adelgiese whispered. "Dear God, please let the boy make it."

She would normally be asleep and snuggled into her bed by now, but part of her needed to see the boy leave the yard unharmed. She needed to know that someone else was caring for that boy as much as she cared for Brigitte, and then she would let ignorance be her bliss. Did Landa never even think about the emotional pain that his work caused others—of the families that he destroyed? He'd killed Brigitte's mother and his former lover, and Adelgiese wondered how that could mean nothing to a human being.

_There they go._

She watched Marlene and a small figure run for the door in the yard's back wall, but suddenly her heart lurched, breath stopping in her throat as she viewed the third figure that had appeared in the yard. And the sound of a slamming door was still quite audible from where she stood. Marlene was yanking the boy behind the shed as the figure moved across the grass, and Adelgiese found her fingernails biting into her skin as she watched. Who was that? The straight-backed, almost rigid stature of the person below could only be Zissel, but why was he in the yard? Damn these chance occurrences. There was no way that Marlene was going to take the boy out the back with Zissel there smoking, and if Marlene missed the changing of the guard near the doctor's...

_You're almost out of time._ And Adelgiese waited with bated breath as she saw Marlene and the boy move around the shed and dodge toward the kitchen. Zissel immediately turned as light flooded the yard from the doorway, but had he seen the child?

"Bonjour, Herr Zissel!" Pierre loudly greeted, addressing and speaking to the SS man from the doorway, his voice distinct but muffled as Adelgiese abandoned her vigil. Zissel had been avoided, but that wasn't the only threat to the fleeing child. If Marlene was going through the house, she was using the front door, which wouldn't be a problem with Zissel outside, Schneider busy, and Hermann with Landa, but if Landa returned while the boy was exposed, all was lost. Even if Marlene made it to the streets and Landa drove by, Adelgiese was sure that he would recognize a boy whom he'd hunted, and Marlene had a very distinct appearance.

Adelgiese's feet were on the landing of the main stairs and descending before she thought to stop herself, that ember within her growing into a fire as she heard a car parking outside the front doors. Landa or not, this could not be good.

"Marlene, go back!" she urgently hissed, the woman and the boy having just stepped into the foyer, but the doorknob was already turning, and any second...

"The closet!" Adelgiese ordered, opening the door to the coat-cluttered space and nearly shoving the woman and boy inside. She shut the door and spun in time to see the front door open, her steps quickly evening out into smooth, graceful strides as she walked toward the stairs.

"Oh, guten Abend, gentleman," she greeted, one hand posed on the stair's railing. She offered Hermann a smile as he held the door for Landa, both men dressed in their dark uniforms, and leather trench coats hanging about their bodies.

"Guten Abend, Fraulein Hoffman," Landa returned while removing his hat. Did the man keep his coat downstairs or did he take it to his room? Adelgiese suddenly realized that she had no idea, and that said nothing about Hermann. "I'm surprised that you're still awake," Landa continued. "Surely a lovely woman such as yourself needs her beauty sleep. What has you out of bed this late?" He was now walking forward as he pulled off his gloves, his blond hair slightly tousled, and the look decidedly fitting his boyish smile.

"Just because I'm usually in my room at this hour does not mean that I'm usually asleep, Herr Oberst," Adelgiese told him, removing her hand from the railing and subtly smiling as she approached him. For some reason, he seemed fixated on her feet, and only then did she remember that she was barefoot, having taken her shoes off in her room. The tile was cool against her warm skin, her toes pushing lightly off of the floor as Landa continued to focus them.

"Do you often go barefoot when I'm not home?" he asked, voice reserved.

"Perhaps," she coyly answered. "I hope that you don't mind." And her tone earned a quizzical look from Hermann as the man began to shrug off his jacket. "Allow me," she offered. "I'm sure that you two have had a long day." She stepped behind Hermann and accepted his jacket, draping it over her arm as she moved toward Landa. "Herr Oberst?" He was looking at her like she was hiding something, but that was okay so long as it was distracting him at the moment. She merely flashed him an innocent, slip of a smile.

"Danke," he slowly said, allowing her to take his jacket, and her hands intentionally brushing over his shoulders as she did so.

"Would you like me to bring you something warm to drink?" she continued, friendly and almost flirtatious as she moved toward the closet.

"You see, Hermann?" Landa pleasantly smirked. "I told you that she's quite charming. Would you believe that he questioned it, Fraulein?" He ended with a light laugh, teasing her as she opened the closet door.

"Wine helps," Adelgiese stated with an amused voice. "Pierre offered me a few glasses earlier tonight, and now I'm walking around barefoot." Let him think that she was a little inebriated. That was fine with her as she kept herself planted between the closet's partial opening and the men. She could see Marlene pressed as far back into the closet's corner as possible, and she silently released a sigh, relieved that the heavy fur coats of the home's former mistress had been left here, for the thick garments provided an adequate, if incomplete shield.

"So would you like anything, Herr Oberst?" she again offered, closing the closet door and leaning back against it with a lazy smile plastered on her features. Oh, she knew how to act this part well, for it had been quite useful on several previous occasions, and she even let her eyes slowly drift across Hermann, who looked utterly dumbfounded.

"Since you've offered, there might be something," Landa agreed. "Did Pierre bake bread today?"

"No, but I made rolls. Shall I bring some to the study?"

"You know my routine," he smiled, eyes locking with hers as she tilted her head to side. "I'll be waiting." Both men then went upstairs, leaving Adelgiese scurrying toward the kitchen to throw several rolls onto a plate. Carrying the tray into the foyer, she ripped open the closet door, voice frantic.

"Leave when I'm upstairs. In the study. Landa won't be by the window."

"Merci," Marlene whispered as Adelgiese again sealed the child and guardian into the closet. Was anyone listening from the top of the steps? She didn't know and didn't have time to regret her actions as her bare feet hurried through the hallway and landed before the study door. Landa liked the study's balcony, but tonight she would not allow him to use it, both for her sake and the boy's. "Herr Oberst?" she called, knocking once.

"Come in," he answered, and she did as bidden, finding Landa on the couch with his boots, socks, and jacket removed, but his outfit otherwise intact. He looked like a normal businessman lounging after a long day at work, his hair messy from his hat, and his shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "I thought that I'd follow your example and let my toes breath," he jokingly told her, one arm resting across the couch's armrest as he watched her approach.

"Your rolls, Oberst," Adelgiese offered, setting the tray down on the coffee table.

"Ah, good," he happily piped, eagerly taking a piece of bread. "I didn't eat lunch today, so anything will do. Although, I hope that your rolls are as wonderful as your company. Do have a seat." Well, at least this part was easier than she'd expected, for he was practically handing her what she wanted.

"You had a long day, I take it," she commented, sitting with her back against the other armrest, and her feet folded sideways on the couch before her. Landa's eyes trailed over her position, but whether they were disapproving or not, she couldn't tell. "Excuse me," she playfully smiled, wiggling her toes against the leather. "I was only making myself comfortable. Is that alright with you, Oberst?"

"Of course," he said after a pause, taking a bite out of his roll. "Mmmm," he nodded, lips upturned. "Your bread is better than Pierre's. A family recipe, perhaps?"

"No. I learned from the baker of another employer. She was younger than me, and we used to smear flour on one another when we were baking alone." She titled her head backward, exposing her neck as she smiled and lightly hummed. "I have some very fond memories of being a maid. In some ways, it gave me more freedom than family and wealth ever did, if you can imagine."

"And you don't regret your decision?" Landa asked, quite conversational as he finished a roll and moved onto the next.

"I regret never speaking directly to anyone in my family again," Adelgiese honestly said, a forlorn smile crossing her features. "But not the decision itself. I'm quite happy to not be married to that officer and sitting at home having his babies. And he wanted _five_." She gave Landa a genuine smile, but beneath the surface, she wondered how long Marlene would wait before leaving with the boy. The woman might wait for a few minutes to allow time to ensure Landa's distraction. Did Marlene think that her German maid was rolling between the sheets with this handsome man right now, cruel as he was?

"Five?" Landa repeated, clearly amused.

"_Five_. Would you like something to drink?" She used one hand to play with her hair, the room's atmosphere not unlike the days when she'd sat in the parlor and talked with her father's friends.

"I'm too distracted by these excellent rolls," Landa smirked. "But then again..." He began to rise, but Adelgiese's foot shot out to land directly across his lap. She didn't want him to have a vantage point on the front of the house, but now she was staring at her skin atop his trousers, and quite a bit of skin was showing since her skirt had gathered around her upper thighs. One of Landa's eyebrows rose questioningly as he stared at that skin, the pale, creamy color contrasting sharply with his dark pants.

"Something wrong, Herr Oberst?" Good lord, was she really doing this? She smiled sweetly at him, eyes half-hooded as his brown orbs locked with her blue ones.

"Exactly how much wine did Pierre give you, my dear?" he asked, face blank.

"Not as much as you might think." _None at all_. And suddenly he was touching her. One of his hands held the bottom of her foot as the other ran a single finger from her big toe up toward her calf. He was watching her watch him, and his soft touch was both unexpected and strikingly gentle. For a moment, she pictured her foot rising and smacking him in the face, but then he began rubbing circles around her ankles, and damn, but that felt really good. Was the man used to massaging feet? His fingertips pressed exactly where they had the greatest effect, kneading her flesh with precision as his eyes intensely focused on her face.

"Do you handle feet often?" she asked while retracting her foot, for she was suddenly unsure of who was directing this evening: him or her.

"Apparently you didn't drink quite enough," Landa smugly commented. "But perhaps you'll undo my tie." And just like that, Adelgiese felt the control ripped from her. "No?" he pressed, smiling invitingly. "Don't worry, Fraulein. It's only a friendly request from a tired man. I mean nothing by it, and I clearly remember you telling me that everything but your ears is off limits." Adelgiese barely paused as she scooted closer, her hands slowly working to undo his perfect tie. She wouldn't look in his eyes while she did this, for he might see the depth of her sobriety, but she could _feel_ his eyes on her. She could feel his hand rising before she saw it—feel it brushing a lock of hair aside as her fingers continued working, and all the while, she knew that he was counting this as his victory.

"You are most generous," he told her, his voice soft, and even seductive. Poor Elfriede had never stood a chance against this man. "Fraulein," he said as the tie came loose and Adelgiese pulled it away. "Your breath doesn't smell like alcohol at all." She nearly froze, fear beginning to rise as she tossed the tie onto the coffee table. He was so close that their legs touched as she knelt on the couch beside him, and the atmosphere was stronger than their last encounter without a child to interrupt them. He'd caught her yet again, and he knew it, that smug smile gracing his features as he pulled a cigarette from a pack within his pocket.

"What?" he asked in mock surprise. "You've nothing to say, Del?"

_Quick_, her mind urged.

"Would you care for a light?" she asked, and something akin to appreciation and pleasure passed across Landa's face. He waited as she reached into her skirt's pocket, her fingers wrapping around a stolen lighter as her pulse pounded. Could he sense her uncertainty as she pulled it free—as his eyes alighted to the very lighter that had gone missing from his room? "There you are," she smiled, flicking a flame into life and lighting his cigarette. She could see the curiosity in his eyes, and even the aggression that dwelled within was apparent to her, or so she imagined as she studied the faint lines of his face.

"Del," he began. "You're borrowing things, I see."

"Bare feet, baking, borrowing," Adelgiese dismissed. "You miss a lot when you're not here, Oberst." He smiled, slowly, and the motion was too methodical to leave any doubt concerning the way that he studied her. She was baiting him and he accepted, the idea making her want to run from the room, but she couldn't when he was making her feel powerless like this.

"My dear, beautiful maid," he breathed, and then his lips pressed against hers, the gesture surprising and yet perfectly predictable as her lower lip was pulled into his mouth. It must have been the surprise that made her mouth open, her lips meeting his, and him kissing her senseless for what felt like the longest moment of her life. He tasted of smoke, and it suited him as she marveled at how soft his lips were, knowing that she should push him away. Instead, she withdrew, standing from the couch and staring down at his amused expression as the taste of him lingered on her lips.

"Goodnight, Oberst," she stated, unnerved and deciding that she'd give him this round without a fight. Damn him for getting the upper hand once again.

"Goodnight," he echoed, voice smooth and cruel. "As always, it's been a treat."

* * *

I know that I haven't updated in a while, but I've been really busy. Hopefully you think that the wait has been worth it! ; )


	13. Chapter 13: K eeping Watch

I'm posting this in a rush, so the editing might be a little shaky. I'm sure that I missed a bunch of minor, grammatical stuff, but I wanted to post another chapter since an update has been in the works for quite a while. Enjoy!

Chapter 13: Keeping Watch

The house was quiet as she hurriedly descended the steps, her long skirt swishing around her legs as she barged into the staff lounge. It seemed to Adelgiese that the room was unusually depressed and quiet given last night's rush and the fact that everyone was present, for she could have heard a pin hitting the floor as she entered. Pierre was snubbing out a cigarette and heading for the kitchen; Elle was sitting by the window and staring at her unfinished oatmeal, and Old Guy appeared to be napping, his head casually leaning against a wall that's rich coloring had been bleached by the sun. This was not the scene that Adelgiese had expected, and she immediately wondered where Marlene was and if the boy had been caught.

"Where is Marlene?" she asked.

"The basement," came Elle's hollow response, and such a lackluster answer drew Adelgiese's scrutiny. Even the Frenchwoman's curls seemed less bouncy this morning, and when her distant expression faltered, something like disgust came over that pretty face. Adelgiese imagined that Elle's recent decision to give herself to Schneider was not unlike the dilemma that she herself had once faced so long ago. The thought of a certain, young officer's hands on her body still triggered revulsion, and there sat Elle, downcast with those blond curls of hers hanging limply against pale skin. The woman's spoon gently tapped and ran circles around a half-empty bowl, and with newfound patience, Adelgiese chose to forgive every cruel comment that Elle had ever said.

"Merci," Adelgiese quietly offered. "He is safe?"

"Oui," Elle answered. "Marlene told me about what you did...thank you."

"He was a child," Adelgiese sighed. "Just a child." Elle turned to look at her for the first time that morning, and the proffered expression was neither reproachful nor grateful.

"Have you ever done something that you can never take back? That you would do again if you had to, but that makes you want to claw at your own skin?"

"Yes," Adelgiese solemnly answered. "I know that feeling." Elle nodded and returned to her mostly untouched meal, leaving Adelgiese to seek out Marlene in the basement. The stairwell was narrow and cool, leading downward into a cement room where the hum of a washing machine filled the air. There was a bathroom for the staff down here, as well as two small bedrooms where Marlene and Old Guy lived, and the two had made the space surprisingly cozy with rugs, two chairs, and a low table where Old Guy's spare pipe sat. Marlene had a real knack for making any space livable.

"Bonjour," Adelgiese greeted to announce her presence.

"Bonjour," Marlene returned, the woman keeping her back to Adelgiese as she fidgeted with the washer's knobs. Adelgiese remained standing on the last step, waiting for a more thorough acknowledgement, but her boss seemed content with muttering to herself while the washing machine momentarily stalled.

"And?" she finally pressed, fearing that something terrible had happened.

"He isn't doing well," Marlene stated while smacking the washing machine with the flat of her hand. "The doctor said that he would have died if he'd stayed here any longer. It will take days to stabilize the boy, but at least he'll be well hidden while he gets treatment. Once he's better, we'll move him again, but can I tell you that, German?" Marlene turned, hands resting on her thick hips, and a stern face measuring Adelgiese. "He's off of your hands now, so perhaps our necks are expendable. Maybe your conscience has run out."

"I won't say anything," Adelgiese promised. "But tell me nothing more. I don't need to know. It is your business."

"Washing your hands clean, huh?" Marlene challenged, although not unkindly.

"Say what you will," Adelgiese dismissed in return, prompting an unexpected bark of humorless laughter from the older woman.

"Yes, I suppose," Marlene sardonically smiled. "You are German, and I am French. We are what we are, and will say what we say. Thank you all the same. The boy would be dead if you hadn't warned me about Landa." The washing machine again paused, and Marlene slapped it with both hands this time. "I doubted these machines when Madame bought them. I'd never heard of a machine doing the laundry before, but now I don't know what I'll do if the damn thing breaks. I never want to do laundry by hand again!" She gave the machine one final slap for emphasis and then leaned against it, looking tall and imposing in the close confines of the basement.

"The boy barely escaped Landa the first time," she shared. "He'd been at a friend's home when the family was gathered. Madame told Landa as much when he threatened one of the girls, and I heard her. I was in the next room, listening, and I sent Elle to get the boy before Landa could. We hid him all over the city, but Landa was always so close behind us, and he followed us everywhere. Oh, I never saw his men, but I knew they were there. So I brought the boy to the one place that seemed most illogical: here. We rarely left the house. Landa's men stopped bothering us. We were waiting for our chance." She shook her head and crossed arms across her chest. "It's hard to get a goodnight's sleep around here, isn't it?"

Adelgiese didn't answer, and as silence stretched between the two women, she decided to depart.

"I will work now," she stated, preparing to go back upstairs.

"Wait," Marlene insisted. "I have one last request, if you will listen." Adelgiese paused, knowing that this could not bode well as she watched Marlene. "I don't leave the house very often, so if I do so now, that bastard Landa will notice. Zissel will say something, or maybe you will. It doesn't matter. Someone needs to check on the boy. You go for walks in the afternoon, and the Germans are less likely to be watching you, yes? Do this and I will ask nothing more of you."

The hum of the washing machine continued unabated, and Adelgiese stared at the Frenchwoman before her, a weight settling over her mind. No, this wasn't good at all.

"_Nothing_," she sharply emphasized, knowing how these decisions could snowball into greater responsibilities. She would have none of that. No, and she shouldn't even be agreeing to this. "This is dangerous, Marlene. Very dangerous." _And what about your life isn't, Adelgiese?_ She frowned upon her own train of thought, remembering where this path had once led her, and she'd vowed never to go back to that kind of life.

"Less so for you than us," Marlene was saying, "and it will not be long. We want to move the boy elsewhere. Then you can go back to kissing Landa's ass for all I care." Adelgiese was tempted to contend that last point, but she held her tongue. She breathed deeply, considering this new request as Marlene waited. If she said no, the woman would find another way to get this done, but she wouldn't put it pass Landa or even Zissel to notice a large variant in a staff member's behavior. She, on the other hand, might be questioned by Landa, but he admitted that she wasn't a threat. She didn't think that he had anyone following her on walks about the city.

"This is the last thing that I will do," Adelgiese stated, unsure if the comment was meant for herself or Marlene, but convinced of its meaning nonetheless. "When?"

"Whenever it is safe," Marlene said. "You may decide, and we don't even need to speak of it. I'd prefer not to anyway. Just let me know when the doctor says that the boy may travel." And that was the end of that. With the conversation finished, Adelgiese marched back upstairs to work with the clear intention of avoiding Landa after their unexpected kiss, and that kiss continually came to mind. The memory was just another complication to add to her list of evolving problems, but she wasn't even entirely sure that this was a problem. Helping a jewish boy escape Landa was dangerous, but the feel of warm, seeking lips on her own was a far more elusive matter. She couldn't decode the meaning behind it, for Landa might be genuinely attracted to her, or he might be playing another game to get beneath her skin. What worried her most, and what she most suspected, was that it was a deadly combination of both, and although Marlene's recent request was still fresh in her thoughts, the memory of a kiss was stronger as Adelgiese reentered her daily world.

_A hundred ways to hang yourself. Focus on the now with an eye ahead. _When she thought about it, helping a child wasn't a daily activity that demanded constant thought, but surviving and sparring with Landa was. She quickly reminded herself that agreeing to help Marlene was the least of her concerns, and the brand on her shoulder was a constant reminder of that. It was this oddly calming rationalization that eventually made Landa and the boy fade to the back of Adelgiese's mind. She handled her daily chores, and there was also Brigitte to distract her. Her niece had either been granted some free time or had escaped her tutor, but either way, the girl naturally gravitated toward her aunt, even insisting on helping with the housework. Such well-meaning intentions actually lengthened the time required to perform any one task, but that was fine, for Adelgiese was in no hurry.

"Isn't it great that vatti gave me a day off?" Brigitte asked, sitting on the foyer's stairs and watching her aunt sweep.

"The colonel canceled your lessons?" Adelgiese was honestly surprised.

"He said that I've been working really hard and deserve a break. I thought that maybe he'd play with me today, but..." The girl stared at her shoes, the white heels dejectedly tapping together. "He's having a meeting, and then he has to go out. He says that his work keeps him moving all the time. I asked if I could go with him, but he just laughed. I don't know why." _I do._

Adelgiese kept sweeping despite the fact that there was no dirt to be seen on the floor. Thinking back to last night, it had been a miracle that Marlene and the boy hadn't been discovered. If they had been, what would Landa have done to them? To her? Telling herself that it didn't matter, she turned her thoughts to the study and flirting with the colonel. That had been reckless, but reckless had seemed to strangely appease him, even keeping him interested in her rather than what had happened downstairs. What must he think of her having put her foot on his lap, of having briefly returned that kiss? He was an impossible man to read, but he'd looked downright victorious when she'd left him last night, his smug look reminding her of others she'd seen. People had underestimated her before, but she'd shown them.

_I guess that you've never really lost that combative edge of yours._

"Del," Brigitte said, chin resting in her hands. "Have I done something bad?"

"Of course not," Adelgiese protested. "Why would you think that?" She could see the beginning of tears in the blue eyes opposite hers, warning of the troubled thoughts that continued to plague Brigitte. The dear, lost child didn't quite know how to deal with everything that had happened, even almost three months later, but what child would understand what had transpired?

"Vatti doesn't spend time with me," Brigitte said, voice shaky. "Whenever my old daddy was angry, he stopped playing with me. I broke a vase once, and he didn't talk to me for two days." Landa had really done it this time, but for once, the man probably had no idea that he'd hurt someone. Adelgiese set her broom aside and sat on the stairs, wrapping one arm around her niece. She hadn't foreseen the girl becoming so attached to Landa, but now, looking into sorrowful eyes, she suddenly wished that the colonel would act like a normal father and hug his daughter more than he checked on her educational progress.

"He's busy," she told Brigitte. "He's not angry."

"Are you sure?" the girl asked.

"I'm sure. Here." She stood and extended a hand to the girl. "Did you ever see your mother dance? She was a wonderful dancer. Everyone wanted a turn with her, and I used to dance with her on the terrace. Your grandmother would sing while we danced." She took the girl and led her to the center of the floor. "Just like this. We used to like this waltz the best." And then she began to hum. Brigitte was too short to adopt a proper waltzing position, but the two held hands as they spun in time to their impromptu music.

"Da da da daaaaaaam da," Brigitte joined in, smiling as she bobbed up and down on her toes. "Mutti taught me how to do this!" she excitedly burst, the two spinning around the edges of the room.

Their voices rose together, the sheer silliness and loudness of their antics drawing the attention of Elle, who paused in a doorway to watch them.

"Dum, dum, dum, dum, dum, duuuuum da!" The French maid almost smiled, but not quite before disappearing, leaving the two dancers to enjoy a bit of laughter in this world, and enjoy it they did. "This is the part where I turn you," Adelgiese announced, spinning Brigitte several times.

"Look how high my skirt goes!" Brigitte laughed.

"And now curtsy like a proper lady." The girl did as told, although not very much like a proper lady considering her bounciness. Adelgiese smiled, suddenly noticing that someone else was smiling as well. Landa stood at the top of the stairs with Schneider, the former beaming at his daughter, and the latter stoic. The two men said nothing as they descended the stairs in their uniforms, ready for another day of tracking and gathering clues. Landa's eyes lingered on Adelgiese's face with a glimmer of teasing amusement, and she glanced at his lips, thinking about them being pressed against hers. She'd tempted him, bringing the kiss upon herself, but the way that his smile now twisted with an almost cruel satisfaction made her certain that there was more to what had happened than simple lust.

"A lovely performance," Landa commended, his words coated in dark undercurrents. "We'll see you ladies this evening when we return. Don't be lonely without us."

"Bye, Vatti," Brigitte smiled, her lower lip sucked into her mouth.

"Remember," Adelgiese told her as the two men passing. "He's very busy. Goodbye, Major Schneider. Herr Oberst." Landa paused at the door, looking pleased with himself.

"Del," he slightly nodded, and then he was gone, but it wasn't the last time that Adelgiese saw him on that day. She was somewhat surprised that he didn't bring up the kiss later that night when he returned for dinner, and the matter remained unspoken between them as one day turned into three, during which Adelgiese continued her afternoon walks. Now though, instead of going west, she headed east, her path cutting across a small park and taking her toward Nazi headquarters. She could always tell when she was getting close to that area, for the number of Germans increased, as did the number of women beckoning and selling their wares from darkened alleys. Adelgiese avoided both groups as much as possible, and although a friendly greeting here or there was standard, she kept to herself when she went to the doctor's office.

The Doctor spoke little German, so their communication relied on French, and inside the small practice that dominated the bottom floor of his house, they discussed the fate of a boy still hunted. She never saw the child when she visited the doctor, and she imagined that such was the intentional by both the doctor and Marlene. As far as anyone involved was concerned, she only needed to know how the boy's health was, and if anyone noticed and asked about her trips, she was going to the doctor's because of pain in her abdomen, but no one asked. No one even saw her as far as she knew, and since the doctor claimed that the boy was improving, she felt that the risk was worth helping the child. The boy was even getting exercise by walking about the house at night, and the doctor said that they could move him very soon.

Soon. Soon the child would be able to run and play like Brigitte did, for while both children had lost parents, one was learning to grasp a new life, but the other was trapped in darkness. The thought bothered Adelgiese as she compared the two, and so, if she could help by doing so little, she would. And it was only her own neck that she was risking in the end. Let Landa remind her of her occasional self-incriminations with his subtle comments and vague smiles, but she wasn't under his thumb despite what he might assume given her recent confessions. No, caring about Brigitte and securing her own position had nothing to do with loyalty, and on that account at least, she and Landa were in perfect agreement.

It was on the third day, as she was leaving the doctor's office, that she mentally told Landa to kiss her ass. The thought of defying him in this manner was refreshing and even liberating, infecting her with the competitive drive that her family had first sparked within her, and her strides became bolder and more determined in light of that. It was also on that third day that Schneider sat in the back of a car, watching her leave the doctor's office. He saw her, but she never saw him.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The package could have been anything from a new assignment to evidence related to an open case, but Landa still felt a rush of excitement when he saw the envelope sitting on his desk. The day had been long, but this promised to be exactly what he'd been hoping to get his hands on for days now. Ever since seeing Adelgiese's brand, his need to know how she'd gotten it had grown to a level where every time he looked at her, he had the urge to demand to see the wound. It was fascinating really—how the maid managed to act so calm and confident in his presence when she knew that he was onto her secrets. For her to defy his threats of exposure when he'd given her the opportunity to speak without repercussion meant that a greater threat outweighed his words, and the matter had occupied his mind on a daily basis.

This woman was his personal project—the unofficial assignment that gnawed at his mind while Goebbels was boring him to death with empty smiles and attempts to preen his own feathers, as if the man constantly needed to flaunt his power simply to prove to himself that he _was_ powerful. It was pathetic really—such a blatant sign of weakness that Landa didn't even bother to examine Goebbels' words or faults any longer, for the simpleton didn't need examination to be properly handled. Logic be damned, but one smile from the führer was enough to send the man into ecstasy. Adelgiese on the other hand...

Landa sat down at his desk, the day long gone and the night his for whatever he chose, which was a rarity in and of itself. He preferred working rather than sitting about anyway, but tonight he forgot about cigarettes or planning ahead and merely focused on the envelope in his hands. The last one had been so telling and instrumental that he couldn't wait to discover what Scheller had disclosed this time around. Whatever it was, searching the SS's meticulous records had taken longer than usual, suggesting that the information to be had was juicier than even he'd anticipated. It was quite amazing how this one woman stoked his attention and interest to such a degree, but after her unexpected and bold flirtation coinciding with Elle's seduction of Schneider...well, only an idiot would think that nothing was going on.

Something was rotten in the state of Denmark.

Not that Landa was a Shakespeare fan. His mother had loved the bard, hence his knowledge, but Nietzsche was so much more interesting. Shakespeare he could appreciate for the flow of words and language—the nuances and delicate way that sentences were hung and spun from the lips of characters both cunning and foolish. Words truly had the power to make even idiots seem wise or charming, and for that, bravo bard, but there was also an appreciation for Nietzsche's harsh and pragmatic outlook on reality. Now, had the two been joined together...

Landa realized that he was digressing as he opened the envelope and pulled out an incident report. Where had Scheller found it? Ah yes. Political cases, unsolved and including unidentified, female suspects. Landa had suspected at much, for Adelgiese had spoken with an underlying distaste for her SA fiance, and he'd concluded that the contempt was ideological as well as personal. The rest was pure commonsense, for she obviously had something of great importance to hide, and with her natural knack for lying and persuasion, he couldn't possibly believe her simple explanations of not wanting to cause trouble. If anything from her past was accurate, she was one sneaky bitch.

_Sneaky and stubborn_, Landa mused, remembering her own, self-professed nature. _Now, what kind of trouble did you get yourself into, my dear? _

_Incident 00978, December 17__th__, 1938_

_Location: Berlin, 58__th__ Street_

_SD interrupted a secret meeting of political activists opposed to the Nazi government. Present were two men wanted in connection to bombings and for smuggling fugitives out of Germany. The subject of the meeting was a plan to disrupt an upcoming transport of political prisoners. At least one of the conspirators was Jewish based on his facial features, and he was likely the same Levi Zucker wanted in connection to smuggling Jews out of Germany. _

_Officers entered the meeting and were met with aggressive behavior. Major Kaufmann shot and killed the alleged Levi Zucker, and his men killed two other men and one woman. No casualties were suffered, and only one suspect survived. She was a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes, about 5'5. She shot and killed Major Kaufmann before fleeing the scene. SD gave pursuit and apprehended the suspect after about three hours. _

_Interrogation of suspect did not proceed as planned. Interrogating officers used force to learn about the meeting's intent, but the suspect was noncompliant. She suffered severe beatings and several ribs were fractured both during the interrogation and in attempts to apprehend her. Officer Müller branded her left shoulder with the iron cross for hitting him. Suspect escaped by setting fire to the interrogation room and stealing the gun from the interrogator in the aftermath. Suspect may be easily identified by her brand._

_Medical examiner: Doctor Carl Frische_

_Injuries inflicted by suspect on Major Rommel: scratches, bruises, bites_

What followed were photos of the damage that the woman had inflicted, as well as a shot of the burnt out room where she'd been interrogated. Medical reports on the wounds she'd caused revealed a level of resistance that was borderline animalistic in its ferocity, but backing a panicked woman into a corner could have such effects. It certainly seemed like the woman had fought tooth and nail to save herself, and according to the information filed by the officer who'd burnt her, the brand had been punishment for her mouthing off to him and refusing to answer his questions.

"And you present me with an even greater conundrum, Del," Landa breathed, leaning back in his chair and tossing the photos onto his desk. What a tangle of a woman, or so it seemed on the surface. She was tough and defiant and totally reserved all at the same time, which was unlike almost anyone that he'd ever given the extent of her carefully balanced traits. What stewed beneath the surface of that beautiful face? She was protective of those whom she loved, yet she could watch men be executed without flinching. She could hate everything that he stood for yet bring him a child and tolerate his actions, and all the while play his game and risk her secrets with a sharp wit.

Landa suddenly realized that his arousal was making itself known, and he glanced downward while thinking about that woman's lips pressed against his. He'd found her attractive before, but this urge to have her sitting on his desk with spread legs was new, and the image tantalizingly danced about his mind as he recalled the weight of her foot across his thighs. If her heel had applied a little more pressure, she might have become aware of the recent magnification of his interest in her.

Landa exited his study and walked to her bedroom door, making no noise as he inserted a key into the door's lock. Why she bothered to lock the door was a mystery to him, for she surely knew that he had a key. Then again, people loved to feel secure, even if the security was an illusion, and considering how much pressure he'd been applying, he imagined that she dearly needed some kind of reassurance. Most people would have merely cracked and told him what he wanted to know by now, like that French man who'd hidden Jews beneath his floorboards had. Once the man understood what was at risk, he'd spoken, but Adelgiese continued to try and outmaneuver him despite such knowledge.

_I back her into one corner and she climbs over the wall._

Stepping into her room, he meandered toward the bed as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, and simply watched Adelgiese's chest rise and fall beneath the blankets. She slept on her back, her face serene and relaxed as she shifted without waking. Landa had the urge to reach out and touch the brown hair that fell over her shoulders and across the pillow, but he had a feeling that she would wake up swinging if disturbed in such a manner. Perhaps she knew that locking the door was futile, but did so anyway to protect herself from other people such as the staff, for even if she wasn't taking a side in this war, others might choose one for her.

Landa remembered her daring to light his cigarette with a stolen lighter, and he smiled, standing beside the bed so that his knees brushed the blankets. It had been a dangerous move on her part, but it had served its purpose by disrupting the controlling spell that he'd temporarily held over her.

_You don't like being controlled, do you Del?_

He'd been tempted to reclaim the lighter, but he would allow her to keep it for now. Maybe it was out of a warped sense of recognition for her strength, or maybe he merely liked the unpredictability of her defiance. Either way, he'd found himself enthralled by her hardened stare when she'd snapped the top shut and dared to put the lighter back in her pocket, as if it had always been hers. The blatant challenge to his authority riled him, affecting both his temper, respect, and something else between his legs that he was sure would delightfully destroy the woman's sense of security.

She looked incredibly angelic when she slept, but he knew that a hardened fighter dwelled beneath that surface—something determined and vicious not unlike what he himself possessed. With one last look, he moved to the door, almost hoping that she would awaken and see him leaving.

"Adelgiese," Landa murmured, closing the door behind him. Whatever she had been before, she was different now, even if her sentiments weren't. Was it self-preservation that drove her to accept a position beneath him or something much more tangled? He dearly hoped that it was the latter, but the former would impress him with its almost cold realism. Either way, he was pleased.

"Whatever or whoever you were," he smiled to himself. "You're mine now."


	14. Chapter 14: I n a Trap

Chapter 14: In a Trap

The day was average enough, and on this bright morning, Adelgiese found herself bent over on the floor outside of Zissel's office to scrub the floor. Her course brush ran across the polished boards as she put her elbows into the work, and with her sleeves rolled up, one could see the subtle lines of muscles that spoke of manual labor. She'd been scrubbing floors for over an hour already, and her arms were beginning to feel the effect, but slacking off wasn't an option since Marlene periodically checked on her progress. If anything, the woman's critiques had grown harsher since their private meeting, but only in public when the SS might be listening. Otherwise their relationship had plateaued at a civil level, even now that Adelgiese had been told to stop visiting the doctor's.

"Del," Brigitte whispered. "Vatti is home. Is it okay if I bother him? He didn't say that he's busy." Adelgiese paused and glanced over her shoulder at the girl, smiling at the child's adorable, pink dress. Landa had taken his daughter shopping yesterday, and for all intents and purposes, the effects seemed positive, although Brigitte had mentioned that vatti was quite forceful concerning which dresses were acceptable or not. She'd only gotten to choose one of her new outfits, but from where Adelgiese stood, Landa had impeccable taste in clothing, so who could complain?

"Go ahead," she encouraged, knowing how happy Landa made Brigitte. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see you." It was odd for her to accept that Brigitte and the colonel should have a relationship beyond mere material support, but the more that she thought about it, the more Adelgiese had to admit that a child needed a male parent. As much as her own father had frustrated her, she wouldn't trade having had a father for anything in the world, and she wondered if Brigitte found it as special to be daddy's little girl as she once had. She'd even had a necklace engraved with that title, but it had been left behind at home with everything else. There was no telling where that necklace was now.

"Okay," Brigitte chirped. "I'll tell him that you say 'hallo'." The girl nearly skipped from the room, leaving Adelgiese to work her way across the floor, and she was drawing ever closer to Zissel's office. The office door was cracked open, and she could hear voices coming from inside, one clearly belonging to Zissel, and the other...

"There's going to be an attempt to smuggle Jewish children out of Paris tonight."

Schneider. Adelgiese continued working, but her scrubbing became lighter, and her movements slowed. The man's mentioning of Jewish children made her hands tighten around the brush as a feeling of dread spread throughout her body, the feeling acting like a poison that pulled at her doubts and fears.

"We got the information from a smuggler," Schneider continued. "The coward talked before we even threatened him. That's the French resistance for you."

"I take it that the colonel has a plan," Zissel commented. "Is there any way that I can help?"

"Nein," Schneider dismissed. "He wants you to keep an eye on the house while we're out. The children are being moved at eight under the guise of a cloth shipment going south. The fools are hoping to cross the Mediterranean, and from what we were told, the children have been hiding in Paris this entire time. You can imagine the colonel's reaction to that. He's anxious to prove that no one escapes him, and let's just say that he has a personal interest in catching this shipment..." Schneider's voice grew softer, and Adelgiese inched as close to the door as she dared, desperate to hear more.

"I understand," Zissel lowly commented.

"Gut," Schneider replied. "Get the job done." Adelgiese's head snapped downward to focus on scrubbing as the office door fully opened, and then the major's boots landed within her line of sight. "Guten Morgen, Del," he briefly greeted. "Wie geht es?"

"Sehr gut," she answered, listening with bated breath as he left the room. Perhaps she could get more information about the colonel's plans by flirting with Zissel, for such an approach had worked before, but then again, flirting seemed to be working against her lately. No, she wasn't going to think about the colonel's eyes trailing over her figure when she'd brought him coffee this morning. He hadn't said a word to her other than expressing his thanks, but the intensity in his gaze had been especially unnerving today, and that air of anticipation about him...

She should have known that he was up to something, and now she knew exactly what it was, but could this business of escaping, Jewish children include the boy that she'd risked herself to help save? She didn't want to consider the thought, for thinking tended to trigger ideas that were sometimes better left untouched. Still, she knew that she had to at least consider the worst-case scenario, for Marlene had told her to stop visiting the doctor, and there were two possible reasons: either the staff didn't require her help anymore because they'd found another helper, or the boy was well enough to travel. Considering the latest news from Schneider, coming events seemed too coincidental to dismiss with the former explanation. _But isn't overhearing an important conversation through a cracked door also a bit coincidental?_ Obtaining such important information through such simple means seemed too good to be true.

_Too good to be true? Where is that coming from, Del? Oh, right. This is exactly the kind of shit that Landa would pull. You'll need to be extra careful._

Adelgiese frowned at the floor as she realized where her train of thought had been heading, and she wasn't thrilled with the results. For a second, she hadn't even questioned trying to prevent the boy from being captured, but she'd already told Marlene that she wouldn't do anything more. There was nothing conclusive to be found in Schneider's comments, and she'd already done her part. She was finished risking her neck—d.o.n.e—but even so, she could hear her own mental mockery. When had she ever been finished? When had she ever reached a point and drawn a line unless the line itself represented her own willful nature? The voice demanded answers, and it told her that she was sneaky and cautious enough to play danger to her advantage. Surely slipping a laxative into a lewd guest's drink on principal had been reckless _and_ pointless. This at least had a purpose.

Adelgiese imagined a boy hunched within a crate, alone and scared after seeing his family murdered. Fear was no way to live.

_Damn it._

Adelgiese nearly threw the brush into her water bucket as she straightened from her task. This was not suppose to happen. She wasn't suppose to feel any obligation to act on behalf of a child that she didn't even know, for how many other people had already died unmourned in this war? The boy might be better off dead anyway, but she knew that she was just being cynical again. That would be like saying that Brigitte was better off poor and hungry rather than being with Landa, which was one of those issues that was difficult to judge. The difficulty of such a decision hadn't stopped Adelgiese from acting then, just as procrastination had never won out with her.

She pictured Brigitte trapped in hiding as she went to dump her soapy water down the storage room's sink. She'd known what she would do as soon as she'd heard Schneider talking, but accepting that was another issue entirely. She only prayed that her decision didn't turn into a futile mess.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"There she goes," Landa smiled to himself, watching as Adelgiese left the house for her afternoon walk.

"I'll handle it, sir," Schneider offered.

"Nein," Landa pointedly denied. "I'll be accompanying you." He stood by the French doors of his study, his attention fixed on Adelgiese's disappearing figure. She was even carrying a basket as if she were going shopping, but he knew better, and she shouldn't have foolishly fallen for his trap so easily. Then again, it wasn't a matter of her being foolish, was it? He rolled that thought over as Brigitte softly hummed to herself, the girl keeping close to his side since Schneider was present. Some people sensed danger but couldn't avoid it given their willful personality and beliefs, and he had Adelgiese pinned as such a person, even if she did have a decidedly cold streak.

_Time to see where your loyalties truly lie, my dear._

"You're dismissed, Major," Landa stated. "I'll meet you downstairs in a few minutes. There's no hurry since we know exactly where our beautiful Fraulein is going."

"Are you talking about Del?" Brigitte curiously asked, her voice softer than usual as she warily glanced at Schneider. The man was leaving though, so the girl would return to her usual self any moment.

"What makes you think that I'm talking about your aunty?" Landa asked, eyes still fixed outside.

"You always call her beautiful," Brigitte stated while climbing onto the couch.

"She _is_ beautiful," Landa smiled.

"She reminds me of mutti," Brigitte shared, and Landa finally turned to look at his daughter. Sitting there in the sunlight and smiling like that, he realized that she had his slight dimples, which really did make her look like his daughter.

"Do you love your aunt?" he asked.

"Of course!" the girl asserted, sounding offended that he should even ask. "I love you too." There was that yearning look in her eyes again, but Landa said nothing as he chose to sit beside her for a few minutes. Spending time with the child was relaxing and even soothing given her care for him. She was probably the only person in the world to truly love him, for such love dissolved into convenience and selfishness as people learned how reality worked, and he did nothing to encourage others to feel for him either. She chose to love him based on nothing. There was nothing logical about the girl's feelings, and he personally considered himself incapable of giving such blind devotion to another person, but here he was, the recipient.

"I have to go soon," he told her.

"It's okay," Brigitte told him, leaning closer and straightening his tie, which made him chuckle. "Aunty told me that you're very busy. There!" His tie looked worse than it had before, but apparently Brigitte thought otherwise. "Mutti always told me that a daddy needs help with his ties."

"Danke," he told her with an approving smile. "I'll be back before you blink. Del and I are going to spend the afternoon together." The idea seemed to please the girl, reminding him that she probably considered Adelgiese to be her mother figure since moving here. It made sense and would explain why Brigitte always seemed so happy when he spoke about her aunt. The girl certainly tried to convince him to spend time with Del.

"Have fun," Brigitte told him.

"Oh, I will," he grinned.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Adelgiese took precautions given her misgivings about recent events. The entire scenario felt misleading, setting off alarms in her head as she considered her chances. She could either call this bluff and turn around, or she could press onward, but either option left her consternated. There might be more blood on her hands either way, and leave it to Landa to put her in a situation like this. The bastard was damn good at sticking people in undesirable positions, but her unsettled state might be unfounded in the end, and she had some surprises up her sleeve. She didn't look back once as she went to the market, using her natural air of grace to camouflage her uncertainties as she walked.

That's right. She was in the market, buying vegetables and acting as if nothing were amiss. She took her time too, opting to take a much longer route to the doctor's office by choosing streets that were less busy so that she might notice if anyone was following her. It seemed overly paranoid, but that nagging feeling that this situation was not what it seemed would not leave her, and there was plenty of time before the boy would be moved, if he were part of this escape plot. Part of her unease came from the apparently flippant attitude with which Schneider had spoken, for she knew from Zissel that the man hated involving children in his work. Why then would he sound so casual about Landa's plans?

_And who are you?_

Adelgiese's eyes glanced toward a casually dressed man who appeared to be window shopping. He strolled along the opposite side of the street, keeping behind her as she left the market with a loaded basket. So she stopped walking, and suddenly he was very interested in a display of evening gowns, which made her engage a passerby in conversation just to see how long the man would stare at dresses. Well, he'd decided to talk to someone as well, so he didn't completely lack subtlety. For all intents and purposes, he looked natural, but Adelgiese had trailed people too many times to not see the signs of watchfulness that he was displaying. So was he with the SS or a member of the resistance? Too bad she wasn't close enough to hear if he spoke French with an accent.

Adelgiese continued to walk, almost relieved that she now had some clarity on her situation. It made her decisions easier, even as it increased her underlying anxiety, for if she was being followed, it meant that this was likely a set-up. Or maybe Landa occasionally had someone follow her just as a precaution? She'd always assumed as much, and thus she'd always been careful, but either way, the real problem was not the man that she saw, but the ones that she didn't. She instinctively knew that there were other followers as yet invisible to her, which made her nerves harden in challenge. She'd known to be prepared for this, but still, she wondered if Landa was laughing somewhere nearby—if he was mocking her for having fallen for his trap.

_I haven't fallen for anything since I understood this possibility from the start_. But she wondered if she wasn't just painting her decision in a better light for the sake of her pride, for she couldn't deny that she felt a bit foolish. _No_! The force of the thought brought a grim smile to her face as she now noticed the same black car that she'd seen parked outside of the market. All black cars looked alike, but not when there was a slight dent in the bumper. Really, the vehicle was inconspicuous enough, but paranoia could be such a wonderful tool in these circumstances. _No_, she told herself again. She wasn't just lying to herself, for somewhere in her mind, she'd recognized all of the warning signs leading up to this moment. They simply hadn't stopped her for the same reasons that they rarely did.

Adelgiese sat at a small table outside of a bakery and ordered two pastries. She ate the first one slowly, and she lost sight of the black car as it turned down a side street, but it hadn't gone far. She knew as much, because another car tried turning down the street but was forced to back out onto the road and rejoin the main flow of traffic. This was the last evidence that she needed then, for she was officially in the middle of a trap, and that meant that Landa had known that talk of a Jewish boy would lure her out of the house. Her heart sank, and the pastry turned to dust in her mouth. The bastard had to know where she was going then, which really did put the boy's life in her hands. Someone unseen had reported her activities, and she cursed herself for not having noticed.

"Excuse me," she called to the waiter. "Is there a bathroom inside?"

"Oui."

"May I leave my things here?"

"But of course."

"Merci," and Adelgiese left her basket and unfinished pastry on the table as she went inside. She hurried toward the back of the bakery where the bathroom was, and then looked to ensure that no one was watching before she bypassed it. Damn, but if Landa knew that there was a boy, and if he knew where she'd been going, then the child was already as good as dead. She could return to the house unseen and act innocent, or she could press onward, but either way, her chances of success had dropped dramatically. She took but a second to lean against the wall, the heat from the nearby kitchen touching her face as she clenched her teeth in frustration.

So the boy had been marked as dead before she'd left the house. Landa was likely just waiting to spring the trap, or rather, for her to spring it, because he would like the dramatic flair of such a twist. The only chance to rectify this would be springing the trap and escaping before Landa was ready. If she could get the boy and tuck him away somewhere—anywhere—before Landa's men pounced on the doctor's house...Yes, that could work, but only if she was fast and unseen. She'd already set this in motion, and he knew what she was up to. Could she beat him to the punch so that he had nothing concrete to pin on her?

Adelgiese took a deep breath and quickly slipped through the kitchen, walking directly by a startled baker as she rushed out the back door. She had some time before her watchers became suspicious and began to wonder if she was returning for her basket, and so she used the time wisely. She turned onto a small side street, timing her entry with a passing cluster of cars so that no one would see her dodging into the tight space. It was a disgusting example of a passageway given the garbage that littered it, and she wasn't entirely certain what that brown substance splashed against the wall was, but she didn't want to know. Her eyes kept focused ahead as she carefully navigated her way forward, the alley eventually opening onto a main street where she found herself standing directly before a car with an SS officer.

He had the back window down, and he glanced up at her, revealing himself to be a slightly older gentleman with graying hair at the temples. He locked eyes with her, but then returned to reading his newspaper without comment, making Adelgiese relax as she prepared to bypass him. Her feet hit the street, and then a brilliant idea hit her. Slinking up to the window, she leaned against it and offered the officer a warm, friendly smile. Landa would never see this coming, and nor would the other SS men.

"Guten Tag," she greeted. "I don't want to bother you, sir, but I need to get to the doctor's, and the locals aren't being very friendly. Two french drivers have already turned me down." The man warmly smiled back at her, and Adelgiese knew that she had him hooked. He opened the door, and she slid inside, the car speeding away toward her destination as she watched the city safely fly by. When it came time to depart, she had the man park on a side street so that she could use the back alley to get to the doctor's house, and of course, she gave him an incentive to wait for her.

"I need to pick up a friend's child, but would you mind waiting for me?" she sweetly asked. "I admit that Paris can be cold and lonely for a German girl. I don't have plans for the evening..." She let her voice trail off with a suggestive smile, and the man quickly agreed, returning to his unfinished paper as she walked away and entered the alley.

_The doctor's house has the blue roof._

She came to the door that had to be his, but she wasn't entirely certain since she'd never bothered using the backdoor before. She'd always entered through the front to look like an unassuming customer, but today was not that day. Her fist pounded against the wood, annoyingly persistent until a bespectacled man with graying hair opened the door. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of her, but he admitted her without question, the door locking behind them.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, his thick mustache obscuring his upper lip. "I have a customer waiting for me in the next room."

"Were you moving the boy tonight?" she urgently whispered.

"Marlene said she would come for the boy unannounced," the man replied, sounding concerned. "Why? What has happened?"

"Landa is going after Jewish children. _Tonight_. Children are going south. He knows about it." The man nervously looked behind him, as if expecting his patient to be standing right there and eavesdropping. He nervously shifted his weight, looking at Adelgiese through his thick glasses and finally sighing.

"I know nothing of moving the boy, but he is well enough to travel. Have you spoken to Marlene?"

"No," Adelgiese admitted. "I told Pierre, but Marlene was not home. It's her day off. She went out. Maybe she was planning to come here." The doctor sighed.

"If she comes, I will tell her not to take the boy," he promised. "Now you must go."

"I can't," Adelgiese protested. "Landa is..." From down the hallway, they heard the front door open, the small bell above it innocently chiming.

"Go," the doctor ordered.

"Bonjour!" a chipper voice loudly called from the front room, and Adelgiese's face paled.

"Landa," she breathed, causing the doctor's eyes to widen in fear. They could hear more than one man entering the waiting room as well, and if those men rounded the corner and came into the open hallway...

"Is the doctor in?" Landa continued to call. "Under the authority of the SS, I am here to search these premises. Your cooperation will be appreciated."

"Quick!" the doctor hissed. "I am done for if they find the boy. He is there," and he pointed toward a large medical cabinet. "The panel at the back opens. Take the boy and leave!" He hurriedly shuffled down the hallway, beginning to announce his presence in a friendly voice as Adelgiese tore the cabinet door open and yanked out the paneling. A boy stared back at her, shaking and near tears as she pulled him from his hiding place. He attempted to struggle, but she held him close, one of her hands across his mouth.

"Quiet!" she insisted. "I will not hurt you. We must leave." She could feel Landa's presence drawing closer as she unlocked the backdoor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Landa and Schneider sat in their car and watched the doctor's office. So far there was no sign of Adelgiese, and it was taking much longer for her to arrive than anticipated, but several men were following her as she shopped, her role-playing amusing Landa as he quietly smoked. The woman would arrive sooner or later, and then he would strike, incriminating her and the doctor, and catching the Jewish boy all in one fell swoop. The doctor would be handed off for questioning, and if the child was indeed here—and Landa was convinced that the boy was—the proper actions would be followed. As for Adelgiese, he had yet to decide what he would do with his treacherous maid. Could he even call her treacherous when she'd never claimed to support him?

"We don't need her anymore," Schneider stated.

"No," Landa agreed. "But if the doctor refuses to show us where the boy is, she can be persuaded to, I'm sure. It saves us the trouble of tearing the building apart, and it is a lovely home. Shame to destroy such a fine example of architecture just to find one child."

"You just want to catch her in the act, if you don't mind me saying so, sir," the major stated with the faintest of smiles.

"True," Landa chuckled. "She's resilient, but I'd love to see how she handles this one. It's amazing that the staff entrusted her with this," he added on a more serious note. "I knew that they had somehow hidden the boy, but I honestly didn't care about his escape. Zissel claimed that Adelgiese would help us find him. Well," he smirked, "he was right."

"I can't be sure that it's the same child," Schneider said, voice flat and eyes dead. "I merely saw a child's clothing when I stopped the doctor's washerwoman."

"Please, major," Landa scoffed. "The doctor has no children, and our Del has suddenly begun seeing him." He blew smoke out of his mouth, watching the building from where they sat down the street. "She's sneaky, but she underestimates how dedicated I am to watching people whom I don't trust. Her mistake, and alas, all hunts must come to an end eventually. Don't look so dour, major. You're the one who shot a mother in front of her child."

"I had no choice," Schneider testily answered, earning a sharp look from Landa. "My apologies, Herr Oberst."

"Sir," Hermann said from the front seat. "There's a man on the radio for you." The device was passed back to Landa, who eagerly increased the volume.

"Ja?" he asked.

"We lost her," came a dejected response.

"Was?" Landa darkly asked. "How did you lose her?"

"She just disappeared, sir. We've been trying to find her, but..."

"How long ago?" Landa interrupted, his cigarette already extinguished.

"About twenty minutes ago, sir. She kept switching streets, and when..." Landa turned the radio off, tossing it aside as he threw the car door open and stepped outside. Schneider followed suit, trailing his superior as they rapidly advanced on the doctor's office. Seeing his signal, two other SS men appeared from another car, their guns held at the ready as they hurried to catch up.

"How much do you want to bet that she lost them and used the backdoor?" Landa asked Schneider, the front door to the office slamming open.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fraulein Hoffman?" He called her name, but Adelgiese wasn't about to merely surrender. The game was over for her, but perhaps the boy had a chance. Ripping the backdoor open, she nearly threw the child into the alley, glad that he'd been exercising lest his legs were too weak.

"The car!" she ordered, spinning to pull the backdoor shut. Her hand gripped the doorknob, and she looked up to see Landa standing there in the hallway, all dark menace in his uniform, and a pistol in his right hand as his eyes raged with amused malice.

"Del," he greeted. She said nothing, but slammed the door, knowing that the colonel was likely running down the hallway and would be in the alley with her at any moment.

"I said run," she harshly told the boy, finding him leaning against the alley wall with wide eyes, his limbs apparently frozen in fear.

"Halt!" a commanding voice yelled, and she turned to see an SS man at one end of the alley. She ran in the opposite direction, the boy with her as adrenaline took over her system, fueling her with a speed and urgency that reminded her of what had happened before. Would she be kneeling on a basement floor, shot from behind to see her blood drain down a pipe? Damn everything to hell, but that was why she'd stopped this madness in the first place. Would Brigitte lose both her mother and aunt to the same man?

"Del!" Landa shouted, bursting into the alley behind her. "This running is pointless." He was pursuing her, but he wasn't shooting, which could only mean that he wanted her alive. The thought didn't make her feel any better as she berated her own stupidity, but hope, however minute, flared to life as she neared the end of the alley. A few more seconds and they would be on the open street where the car was waiting. There was enough distance between her and Landa to make this work, so long as the boy didn't give them away.

She lifted the child and began laughing as she rushed toward the car, the SS officer in the back sitting unawares as he turned a page of his newspaper. Adelgiese opened the car door and flopped onto the backseat, knowing that she only had seconds to pull this off, and she looked a mess. Thankfully, a flushed face and fake laughter could be made charming.

"This little monster made me chase him all the way from the doctor's," she jokingly laughed, holding the boy tightly and keeping his face turned away from the officer. The child was utterly terrified, and who could blame him since he was in an SS car? She set him down beside her, letting him stare out the window in fright as she sidled closer to the officer. "Thanks for waiting," she smiled, giving the man a light kiss on the lips. That did the trick, for he was soon kissing her back, and gently, like the gentleman that he was. Lips locked with hers, the car rolled away, and Landa was left unseen and ignored as he emerged from the alley.

Adelgiese glanced sideways out the rear window as she continued to seduce her escort, seeing Landa futilely waving his arms as the driver focused on the road ahead. The colonel had to be absolutely furious, but she didn't care.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Get to the cars," Landa ordered. "Hermann! The radio!" He would radio ahead and tell men to locate and keep an eye on the escaping car. He was actually ordering SS men to follow another SS car. Unbelievable. Adelgiese had actually pulled off escaping him, and with one of his own subordinates no doubt. Was her foot resting on the man's lap? Was she letting him draw her closer? Was she smiling as she so smugly thwarted his plans?

"Sir," Hermann called from the car. "I've already radioed ahead."

"I take it, sir, that we're personally going to give chase," Schneider commented.

"I'm going to find her," Landa answered, eyes glinting with determination.

"She's good, sir." Oh, yes. Yes, she was.

"But not better than me." His trench coat swept around him as he marched toward the car. There was no way in hell that she was going to escape him a second time.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Could you park near that street there? It's too narrow for a car, but the family doesn't have money to afford a house in a renovated area. You know how rented rooms are sometimes shoved into back alleys. Danke," Adelgiese offered the officer. "I'll be right back. I just have to make sure that the kid's safely home. Maybe we could stop by my house as well, so that I can change into something more appropriate?" The man readily accepted, and so she took the boy's hand in hers and pulled away from the car. "Come along, Heinrich," she urged. "Your mother will be waiting." The boy said nothing, but gripped her hand tightly as she meandered toward a small house that she knew to be Elle's, if Pierre had given her the correct number that was. She would pass the boy off and tell Elle to move him somewhere else, for Landa was after her right now, not Elle. Perhaps the Frenchwoman had time to hide the boy yet again. There really weren't any other options.

"Please be home," Adelgiese quietly prayed, standing before a small house's backdoor and impatiently waiting. It was late afternoon now, and Elle usually didn't work Saturday nights, so there was a good chance that the girl was here. Adelgiese was simply happy that she wasn't in prison right now, for luck was a terribly thing to rely on, and she was, grasping at straws.

"I wet myself," the boy suddenly spoke, sounding ashamed.

"It's okay," Adelgiese sadly smiled. "Elle might have some clothing." The purr of a motor caught Adelgiese's attention, and she glanced at the end of the alley where the car was waiting for her...or where it had been waiting. Her heart began pounding as she realized that the man had left, but why? There was no reason, and there'd been no radio in his car to allow someone to contact him about her. Something was very, very wrong.

"And I find you at last." Her head whipped around to look at the other end of the alley, where a very familiar SS colonel stood, a dangerous, predatory smoothness to his approaching steps. His boots crunched across the alley's loose stones, and his lugger was still present in his right hand. "You almost pulled that off," he coldly applauded her, and she met his brown eyes with trepidation. "But there's nowhere for you to run now. It's very fortunate that Hellstrom caught sight of your escape vehicle while taking a smoke."

"Run!" Adelgiese ordered the boy, pushing him ahead of her yet again as she spun toward the other end of the alley. She heard Landa giving pursuit, but he didn't even need to run, for she'd taken no more than ten steps when her pathway was blocked.

"Fraulein," Schneider gruffly greeted, the man skidding into the opening of the alleyway and effectively killing Adelgiese's hope. She ground to a halt, no sooner stopping then she was slammed into the wall, her breath knocked from her as she found herself face-to-face with Landa. The boy attempted to escape, but Schneider had him by the collar, quickly subduing the child with a few rough shakes that made the frail boy look like a puppet. Adelgiese might have been more focused on him, but she found herself mesmerized by the intensity of Landa's expression as he forced her back against the brick wall, one of his hands painfully biting into her shoulder, and the other loosely holding his pistol, which was thankfully pointed at the ground.

"What do we have here?" he asked, sounding like an exasperated father. "I warned you against betraying my trust, Fraulein. You should have known better than to try my investigative skills. Now look at this mess that we have on our hands." He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for some kind of explanation.

"So did you do this to catch me or the boy?" Adelgiese asked, voice devoid of emotion. He was right; there was no running now. All she could do was maintain her dignity.

"A little of both," Landa briefly smiled, the expression dropping as he glanced at the subdued child. "I admit that the child is a bit inconsequential—more like an additional prize." Adelgiese studied the man's profile and the cool way that he looked at the boy, as if he were looking at an object instead of a person. It made her ill to think that someone could value human life so little.

"Let him go," she said.

"Wie bitte?" Landa incredulously asked, eyebrows raised. "You can't honestly expect me to grant that request." His hand left her shoulder so that his fingertips could softly run down her cheek, his digits warm and gentle against her skin. "His fate is out of your hands now. You've passed him off to me." The accusation made Adelgiese's eyes burn in anger, a tightness gripping her chest and demanding that she act. Her hand flashed outward without warning, and slapped Landa across the face before she realized what she'd done, her nails raking across his skin and leaving faint, red lines. His head snapped sideways with the blow, one hand lifting to touch the place where she'd hit him, and then his smoldering, brown eyes again found hers.

"_That_," he emphasized, "was foolish." Something feral was beginning to raise behind his controlled facade, but it remained repressed as he stared at her, as if he were searching her expression for something. She couldn't begin to fathom what he hoped to find by studying her face under these circumstances.

"Bitte," she begged, but not for herself.

"Begging won't do you any good at this point," Landa dismissed with an unexpected smile. "Major, take the child to-"

"He's only a child, Schneider," Adelgiese interrupted, staring at the stoic major. "He's no older than Brigitte."

"That's enough," Landa darkly warned her. "Major-"

"He's only a child!" Adelgiese yelled before a burning sensation erupted across her face, Landa having returned her earlier slap. His was much more forceful though, making her head swim and her vision momentarily blacken. Then his fingers were biting into the soft flesh of her throat, holding her against the wall and applying enough pressure to hinder speech.

"Don't interrupt me," Landa hissed. "Ever." Schneider began dragging the boy out of the alley, however reluctantly, but Adelgiese wasn't about to give up. She was going to die anyway, so she might as well do something to truly deserve it. The idealistic idea made her want to bitterly laugh at her own stupidity, but she was too busy trying to push Landa off of her, smacking and kicking as his grip dangerously tightened.

"You're killing another child!" she shrieked through the strangled grip, making Schneider pause once more, an almost pained expression overcoming his face. Her successful plea only infuriated Landa, who sent Schneider a scathing look that promised severe reprimand later.

"Enough!" he roared at Adelgiese, losing his composure entirely as lack of oxygen began to fog her mind. She'd never seen him so out of sorts, his patience tested to the limits by her defiance and Schneider's insubordination. But the major was still taking the boy away. The boy would still be killed, and Schneider would likely do it. Landa would _make_ him do it.

_Can't...breathe..._

She was no longer aware of Landa as her hand frantically searched her pocket, wrapping around a familiar metal object and pulling it free. The flame was lit within seconds, and she held it against Landa, unaware of what she was aiming for, but desperate nonetheless. The grip on her throat fell away as someone cursed, and then she was sliding down the wall. Someone was yelling for the boy to run, and she belatedly realized that it was herself, her eyes and mind slowly adjusting to her surroundings once more. She was on the ground, watching Schneider stomp on Landa's jacket, which was also on the ground, a faint trail of smoke rising from the lapel.

"My own lighter," Landa darkly commented, lifting the offending object from the ground and staring heatedly down at Adelgiese. "At least it was the uniform's jacket and not my favorite trench coat." She thought that he might hit her again, but his composure had apparently returned, and he actually shook his head. "The report didn't do you justice," he mused, almost sounding amused as he turned to Schneider. "I want that boy, major," he ground out. "Go find him. I'm taking this one back to the house. Get up," he ordered, and Adelgiese did as bidden, although she was careful to keep her distance from him. "If you try anything, you _will_ regret it," he whispered in her ear, seizing and holding her by the elbow as he guided her out of the alley and toward a waiting car.

"He might make it," Adelgiese boldly stated, sitting in the car and watching Landa shut the door. He was gingerly touching the spot where she'd slapped him, and his ruined jacket sat on the seat between them.

"He won't," Landa confidently corrected her. "No one does if I want them badly enough." The gun was sitting on his lap, and it remained there as the car navigated the streets toward home. Brigitte would probably be looking for one of them by now, and the thought made Adelgiese's eyes water, but she hid her emotions from Landa. His eyes continually darted toward her, but she refused to look at him as she withheld the biting comments that sorely wished to leap from her tongue. Her eyes might appear moist, but she would not cry. She would never give him the satisfaction.

"Out," he ordered once the car stopped, and Adelgiese found herself being taken to his study, her emotions numbing as he left her in the room by herself. He didn't reappear until several minutes later, and Adelgiese nearly choked when she saw Brigitte entering the room at his side. What was he planning to do? He was still angry with her, but not only angry. She could see something else in his eyes as she stood tall and watched him from where she leaned against his desk. Even the way that he slowly walked toward her was predatory, but he stopped short of touching her, his gun still in hand, Brigitte nervously glancing between the two of them.

"Vatti?" the girl asked.

"Del misbehaved," Landa calmly stated, ignoring the child. Adelgiese's eyes hardened as the pistol was threateningly cocked, the implication clear, even if the gun remained at Landa's side. Brigitte's eyes widened in fright, her little hands clutching her dress and tears springing to her eyes. This probably reminded her of that day several months ago when Landa had first visited her.

"What are you doing?" the girl gasped, her voice soft and panicked. Had this been how her mother had met death? Right before the girl's eyes, forcing a child to see violence that should never touch someone so innocent? Landa looked remorseless as he locked eyes with Adelgiese, and there was that hunger again, lurking beneath the surface and suffusing his liquid movements.

"Aunty did something very bad, Brigitte," he explained, the girl nearly beside herself with panic to the point where she was actually trembling. Adelgiese wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort the girl, but the pistol was right there, ready to be used. "Tell her to apologize."

_Was? _

"Warum? What did she do? Aunty Del," Brigitte begged. "Please." One of the girl's hands was now tugging at Landa's trousers. "Vatti," she gasped. "What are you doing? Why are you scaring aunty? Put the gun away."

"She needs to apologize," Landa reiterated, and now Adelgiese saw the malignant, cruel satisfaction in his eyes. He was enjoying controlling her through the child, but along with feeling disgusted, Adelgiese found herself struck by his cunning yet simplistic plan. There were no ends that this man wouldn't use to get what he wanted, and she knew it with certainty in that instant.

"Del..." Brigitte's voice trailed off, lost amid gasping sobs.

"I apologize," Adelgiese slowly spoke, but her eyes threw daggers at Landa, telling him what she truly thought.

"Wunderbar!" the man happily chirped, putting his pistol back into its holster. "Let's not have a repeat of this unfortunate business. Brigitte," he knelt at the girl's level, wiping tears from the soaked face. "I'm sorry that I scared you so badly. Aunty Del is sorry too. I promise that this won't happen again." His words seemed to direct themselves at Adelgiese as he spoke to the child, the girl indulging in a frantic, desperate hug as she embraced her father, who returned the gesture. "There, there," he whispered into her hair. "Shhhhh. Sometimes adults argue, but Del and I are going to be much better about it, aren't we?"

"Of course," Adelgiese coldly returned, maintaining the show for the child's sake.

"Run along," he told Brigitte. "I'll come hold you in a few moments. Would you like that?"

"Yes," Brigitte softly told him, unwillingly releasing him as Landa stood.

"Go," he urged her, although quite gently. He didn't sound like Landa at all when he said such things to his daughter. The girl was barely out of the room though when his attitude morphed, his palms pressed against the double doors, and his back to Adelgiese as he seemed to lose himself in thought.

"How could you put your own daughter through that?" Adelgiese weakly demanded, standing and staring at the back of his white shirt. "She loves you, and you have the audacity to abuse her simply because we're fighting. Unglaublich."

"I made my point," Landa shrugged while straightening and running a hand across his hair, smoothing down the wild disorder that had set in during their conflict. "And I want to ensure that you know exactly where you stand, Del."

"Will you kill me?" she asked, leaning back against his desk and putting on her best casual coolness. He approached her, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as he fixed her with that barely sated expression of his. He wanted something. She could feel the malcontent rolling off of him in waves that washed over her skin.

"I was going to," he confessed to her, stopping a mere two feet from her. "But I've had a change of heart. You don't regret having defied me at all, do you?" She didn't answer as he watched her. "I should kill you and save myself some trouble, but then again..." He grabbed and pulled her close, his mouth hovering over hers as she was forced against his chest, staring upward into his face and those intense, muddy eyes. "Be cynical, Fraulein," he ordered, voice heavy. "Why am I keeping you?"

"You know that I don't pose a serious threat," she offered, voice almost a whisper with him so close. "And...and you like the control." He kissed her, but unlike his words, there was nothing even vaguely charming or gentle about it. It was forceful, bruising even, and there was an animalistic edge to it that surprised her. Then he suddenly broke the kiss and stepped away from her as if he needed to distance himself from her.

"Go to your room," he ordered. "From this moment on, you are a prisoner instead of a mere maid. Consider your freedom officially curtailed."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N:

I'm sorry to say that my previous use of lines to divide sections of a chapter has been destroyed. I'm now using X's, which is no big deal, except that the formatting on all of my finished stories is now destroyed. Seriously, I don't feel like going back and re-uploading all of those chapters with X dividers. What a pain in the...

Anyway, enjoy the update. I didn't edit it as closely as I should have, but I wanted to get it posted. It has been a while since I last updated, after all. Cheers!


	15. Chapter 15: S ympathy from the Devil

Chapter 15: Sympathy from the Devil

She sat at the small vanity near her bed, her hands folded on her lap as her legs gently swung back and forth. The scene was almost adorable, but Landa could see the girl's reflection from where he stood near the doorway, and Brigitte was in an incredibly agitated state. She was morosely staring at herself in the mirror, her blue eyes flooded with unshed tears, and her lips twisted into a pout that made her lower lip tremble. Her fingers were also nervously playing with her white nightgown, and she even refused to acknowledge his presence as he walked closer to her.

"Brigitte," he soothingly began, his hands landing on her small shoulders. The contact seemed to trigger the floodgates, for Brigitte immediately began to cry, her little body shaking with muffled sobs as her chin sank to rest against her chest. Blond hair fell around her face like a curtain, as if she was desperate to hide her distress, and Landa had never seen his daughter so out of sorts. She was such a naturally bubbly creature, but now she seemed to be crumbling further with each passing second, and he wondered if his recent display of aggression would imprint itself on the girl's mind for the rest of her life. Having her hold this against him would certainly not be in his favor.

"Come here," Landa instructed her. "Would you like a hug?" Brigitte said nothing as she slid off of her chair, and then she was in his arms, crushing her tiny frame against his as she cried into his collar. He knelt on the floor and held her, giving her exactly what she both wanted and needed, and he even planted a kiss on her temple.

"You scared me," Brigitte sobbingly complained. "You...you had a gun...and, and..."

"It's okay," Landa spoke into her hair. "I wasn't going to shoot anyone. I was just in a very foul mood because of your aunt, but I'm not angry anymore."

"I don't... I don't like...when you're angry," the girl choked out while rubbing her nose against his uniform, which made Landa suspect that she was wiping snot on his shirt.

"I don't like being angry either," he honestly told her. After all, life was much better when everything was going his way, but he'd no longer been angry with Adelgiese by the time they'd reached his study either. Oh, he'd been furious with her when she'd assaulted him, and even when she'd outsmarted him by driving away with that other officer, but if he'd truly been angry, she wouldn't be alive anymore. As was, catching her had actually been more rewarding due to her clever maneuvers, and if she hadn't fought back, he would have been sorely disappointed. He could still picture her leaning against his desk, glaring at him for using Brigitte, and her hair tousled, and her skirt dirtied, and her eyes flashing with emotion...

"Vatti," Brigitte sniffed, looking up at him for the first time. Good. The girl was already well on her way to recovery. "You have to apologize."

"Apologize?" Landa questioned.

"Yes," Brigitte nodded while wiping the rest of her tears away. "Apologize and promise never to do that again." Her voice carried an unspoken plea, and Landa could see that this promise could reestablish her confidence in him. She needed this as much as she needed the physical comfort, and as she clung to him, her gave her a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"I'm sorry for scaring you," he told her. "And I promise that I'll never pull a gun on aunty again. Does that make you feel better?" Brigitte merely nodded, growing morose yet again as Landa lifted and carried her toward the bed. He set her on the mattress and tucked blond hair behind her ears as she stared at him with those large, blue eyes. She was going to cry again, but maybe she would return to herself by tomorrow morning. It was only natural that the girl work this emotional stress out of her system first, and Landa was actually quite pleased with his daughter's reaction to what had just transpired. After all, the girl was too subdued and kind to throw a massive tantrum or break anything in her distressed state. He certainly hadn't been this passive as a child.

"You still need to apologize," she told him, her voice grower firmer. "Apologize to aunty."

"It was aunty who caused the problems," he explained, finding the idea of being told to apologize absolutely disdainful. He rarely apologized for anything since he regretted very little in life, even if he had just made an exception for his daughter. Her little heart had needed some kind of reassurance though.

"But you hurt her!" Brigitte protested. "So you _have_ to apologize. You hurt aunty, and when you hurt someone that you care about, you say sorry."

"Get some sleep," Landa told her, giving his daughter one last kiss on the forehead.

"Okay," she relented, allowing him to tuck her in for the night. Perhaps she would forget about this whole apology thing by the morning. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, my angel."

"And don't forget to apologize." Why did she have to be as persistent as he himself was?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Why had he kissed her again? Adelgiese laid in her bed, not bothering to get dressed for work since Marlene had mysteriously given her the day off. Perhaps the woman had already heard about what had happened, in which case, the staff was probably stunned that she was still breathing let alone in this beautiful room, enjoying some morning sunshine. Speaking of breathing, it hurt, Landa's grip from yesterday's struggle having left heavy bruises along her neck, and what an idiotic situation that had been.

Adelgiese sighed, unable to regret what she'd done, but left adrift in the aftermath. Landa wasn't going to kill her, but everything was uncertain now, and she needed to find her footing. Staring at the ceiling, she didn't know where she was going to find that in this tense atmosphere, and somehow, her mind kept circling back to that searing kiss. Landa seemed to taunt and keep her close for personal reasons that were murky at best, and even the trap that he'd laid out had been more about her than finding a hidden, Jewish boy. He had been playing, and was still playing a game, but the objective remained unclear. The only thing of which she was certain was that he prolonged the game because she somehow managed to keep overcoming or at least survive whatever he threw in her face.

But this kissing...

What exactly _did_ Landa want?

Knock. Knock.

"Aunty Del?" a voice called, and then the bedroom door cracked open to reveal one blue eye that peeked through at her. So the lovable girl had come to check on her yet again. That made this visit the fourth one since five in the morning. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Adelgiese weakly smiled. "What are you doing?"

"I came to see you, silly," Brigitte answered, slipping inside and quickly climbing onto the bed. The girl was still in her nightgown, so apparently there were no lessons for her today, and the child quickly snuggled down beneath the blankets to lean against her aunt with the utmost care.

"Did vatti hurt you?" she finally asked. Adelgiese was surprised that the subject hadn't cropped up sooner, for she knew that the issue was on the girl's mind, but the matter of her father's behavior had thus far been avoided.

"Don't cry," Adelgiese soothingly spoke. "We had an argument, but it's over." _Not really_.

"I love vatti, but he was really scary yesterday."

"I know." And oh, did she know it, yet she was trying to act as if nothing was amiss for this child's benefit. Was that even a wise idea? It was her fault for having brought the girl here, but in the end, Adelgiese figured that it didn't matter anymore. What had been done could not be erased, and leaving was hardly an option at this point. Ripping Brigitte from her new life to live humbly now that Landa had claimed the girl seemed impossible, and it wasn't only his daughter that he'd claimed as his either. The very idea sent a shiver down Adelgiese's spine, for she was now technically his prisoner.

"Do you like art?" she asked Brigitte, who nodded. "I have a picture book that I bought. We could look at it together, and I'll tell you all about the artists."

"That sounds fun, but..." The girl gingerly touched a finger to the black and blue marks on the side of Adelgiese's neck. "Doesn't that hurt? I told vatti that he needs to apologize too." Adelgiese could only imagine Landa's reaction to that suggestion. Had the man ever sincerely apologized in his life?

"It doesn't hurt much," she lied. "Now grab that book over there. I'm not planning to move more than necessary today. In fact, let's be lazy all day." Sitting and entertaining the girl in a comfortable bed almost made the troubles of the world disappear, but only almost.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXx

_"You should apologize," Brigitte boldly chided him. "You hurt aunty, and when you hurt someone that you care about, you say sorry."_

Landa wondered where the girl had gotten the misguided notion that he cared about Adelgiese. In a way, he did care, but not exactly in the manner that Brigitte might think, and now he was on his way home, having been out attending to another messy scene left by the Basterds. He found himself surrounded by the most interesting opponents as of late, but he admitted that Adelgiese wasn't exactly an enemy—an opponent, yes, but she knew how he viewed her, for she wasn't a true, dangerous threat given her connection to Brigitte. She had no intentions of harming him, but she wasn't tame and willing to kowtow to him either. Oh, how he hated seeing people kowtow. Well, most of the time. Sometimes it was amusing, and sometimes having someone so ardently throw themselves at his feet was a real ego booster.

_Adelgiese_.

How was it that this one maid occupied so much of his free time? He liked dealing with her, and on some level he even trusted her. After all, he could predict how she would act in certain situations, and when he couldn't, he found himself drawn to her.

_Brigitte_.

There were two women in his life, and they were both so compelling. The younger of the two loved him, and the elder disliked but was reasonable enough to coexist with him. One was manipulative and cool, yet subject to her emotions and sense of duty. The other was honest and warm, yet foolish and overly trusting. They were opposites, but he always thought of them in connection to one another, and then there was him, standing as a strange, integral part of their relationship. Both women were his right now, given the circumstances, and considering how isolated he tended to keep himself, these sudden connections were affecting his life in ever-growing ways.

His home was now their home. He couldn't think about his house without thinking of them—as if their personalities changed the very nature of the building. He couldn't even think about ending the work day by sitting alone in his study anymore either, because one of them would inevitably be in his space, and if they weren't, he found himself wondering where they were. Sometimes he even went out of his way to look for them, and Adelgiese dared to lecture him on how to treat Brigitte right after being caught helping a fugitive. Instead of blowing up, he'd found her genuine care and disregard for self so alien to his own way of thinking that he couldn't help but be fixated. And the girl dared to lecture him on apologizing, as if she were a miniature reincarnation of her aunt. Infuriating women!

_My women_, he darkly thought, now at home and already wondering why the house was so damn quiet. At least the boy had been found, and Schneider had put a bullet through the kid's head as punishment for hesitating yesterday. People _did not_ defy his direct orders.

"Maid," he called, catching Elle's attention as the woman walked by. "Has Brigitte eaten dinner yet?" The woman stopped, her irritation at his rude address poorly concealed.

"No, sir. I haven't seen her all day."

"But Pierre received instructions that I was dining with her today, correct?"

"Yes, sir. The food has been sitting on the table for about ten minutes, but the girl refuses to come downstairs, or so Marlene tells me." Landa allowed her to continue working as he headed upstairs, following his intuition and heading straight for Adelgiese's room. He didn't knock, but merely opened the door, the scene beyond quiet and peaceful as he silently looked on. Adelgiese was in bed, the open book on her lap forgotten as she leaned against the headboard with closed eyes. Brigitte was curled up beside the woman, sound asleep with her head resting on her aunt's lap, and both of them looking angelic as they remained ignorant of Landa's presence.

He left the door open as he advanced, waking Adelgiese by brushing her hair aside to gain a better view of her bruised neck. He'd caused more damage than he'd originally thought, and now he examined the wounds with a clinical eye as the woman stirred, waking with a start when she realized who was touching her.

"What do you want?" she immediately asked, her tone clipped.

"Who's there?" Brigitte sleepily asked, also waking up. She rolled over onto her back, and quietly looked up at her father from her upside-down view.

"Two women, both still in their sleepwear," Landa chuckled. "Did you have a good day, angel?" he asked Brigitte.

"I stayed with aunty," the girl lazily commented. "We read, and played games, and Marlene brought us lunch, and then we read some more. Did you come to apologize?" Landa's hand dropped from Adelgiese's hair, and he bent to lift his daughter from the bed. The girl was endlessly persistent in making everyone live up to her standards of friendly compassion.

"Why don't you give Del and I some time alone?" he suggested, setting the girl on the floor. "We have some adult things to discuss." For the first time, his daughter looked at him with what amounted to distrust, even suspicion that he did not mean what he said. The worried glint in her eyes and the way that she hung back from him immediately caught his attention, and Landa didn't like it one bit. There was nothing adoring toward him in the girl's face right now, and while she would grow up eventually, he found this sudden, distrustful change most disagreeable. This was not how his daughter usually looked at him. Perhaps he'd been a little too optimistic concerning her recovery last night.

"I didn't mean to hurt her," he stated. "It was a mistake, and everyone makes mistakes. I'm going to make her feel better now, just like she helped me when I was injured." Brigitte silently nodded, giving her aunt a strange look before leaving the room, her motions still reluctant.

"Remember to apologize," she muttered before the door closed.

"What did you really come here for?" Adelgiese asked, sounding weary. Her facade obviously had yet to completely repair itself, but Landa had a feeling that she'd be back to holding her own before long. She was an extraordinary woman in that regard.

"I was a little rough yesterday," Landa admitted, approaching the bed and sitting beside her. "But 'bygones are bygones' as the Americans say. You challenged the Reich, and it was my job to stop you. That's what I'm paid to do, and you know that as well as I do. So," he smiled, brushing her hair aside once more. "It's my turn to play nurse."

"I'm not in the mood to play at all," Adelgiese grumbled. He pressed a hand against her neck, testing the tenderness. "Don't."

"Hmmm," Landa sighed, retracting his hands. "I can see that this will be more difficult than I originally thought. Fraulein Hoffman, we have been blunt before, so allow me to prolong our tradition of informality. You knew what would happen if you were caught aiding my enemies, but you did so anyway. Did I kill you? No. You might show some gratitude for my having spared your life." She stared at him, considering his words before she sat up straighter. Where was that glint of determined will that had so captivated him when she'd tried to dissuade Schneider from following orders? Landa could almost sense her spirit rekindling. "You are still alive for the time being, my dear." And he tenderly stroked her face.

"Do you truly feel nothing when you order a child's death? When you use a child?" she asked, perfectly serious as he resumed examining her throat. "You're a father."

"Del," he intoned, cupping her face in his hands. "I'm many other things as well. But I will not use Brigitte like that again. You care so much about the girl..." Those blue eyes—that had been what he'd first noticed about Elfriede when they'd been introduced. "Do you know what your name means?"

"No."

"Adelgiese means noble hostage, but what kind of hostage are you? A hostage of circumstance or a hostage of ideals? You tried to forsake ideals long ago, but it never really worked, did it? You couldn't let that boy go—not when Brigitte was here, waiting for not just you, but _me_, her father. You're a complex woman, Fraulein." He couldn't resist drawing her lips to his, pressing her to cave as he lingered on her scent and taste. She tasted marvelous, and her lips felt even better, the tender, reddened flesh flush against his own, her mouth slightly opened for him to plunder.

"But," he spoke, pulling away so that he could properly stare into her eyes. "You gave yourself to me, and I have no intentions of letting you go." His own words caught him off guard, but he wasn't about to retract them with the feel of her still burning through his mind. What would it take to force this woman beneath him, and willingly at that? It would be difficult, but he imagined her to be a fiery lover given her hidden reserves of strength. Even now, she was looking at him with hardened eyes that almost dared him to try that again. What she didn't know was that the women who most despised and resisted him were the ones that he sought the most.

"By the way," he whispered. "I got the boy."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxxxxxxx

"Did you apologize?" Brigitte asked, looking cross as Landa sat beside her on the couch.

"In my own way," he told her. "And I told you to go to your room."

"I know," the girl smiled. "But I wanted to spend some time with you. Aunty told me that if I want you to come home earlier, I should be really nice and show you how much I care. It's good advice. Love conquers all." Landa hadn't heard anything that sappy in a long time, and part of him was sorely tempted to rid his daughter of such a naïve concept. She needed to be a bit more realistic if she was going to survive in a war-torn world.

"Is that movie thing done yet?" she asked.

"The party for the premier is in a few days," Landa explained.

"Can I go?"

"Maybe."

"Can aunty come too? She'd look so pretty in a sparkly dress." Yes, that she would. Landa was willing to bet that Adelgiese looked and acted like an absolute vixen when dressed to her old social class. Maybe Goebbels's premier didn't need to be an entirely boring affair after all.


	16. Chapter 16: S miles without Warmth

Chapter 16: Smiles without Warmth

Vatti had almost hurt aunty.

It didn't make sense.

Brigitte sat in the parlor, leaning into the corner of the couch, and fiddled with a spoon. Her tutor was looking for her, but she'd run away when the man had demanded that she stand in the corner for spilling ink on her papers. He didn't even yell in German, but in English, and she barely understood him when he got angry. Vatti said that the lessons would make her smarter and that a girl should learn as much as possible, but she didn't want to stand in the corner for making a simple mistake. Anyone could spill ink, so why was the teacher so angry?

He would find her soon, but Brigitte didn't care as she mindlessly tapped the spoon against her shoes. She wasn't suppose to have her feet on the furniture, but she wasn't suppose to leave during lessons either. What she really wanted to do was go see vatti, but he was away again. He always seemed to be working, but she thought it more important that everyone be happy again, like the day that she'd taken him breakfast in bed. Vatti had smiled at Del, and aunty had smiled back. She'd even given him a kiss, and that was special, because mutti had only ever kissed her other father. Kisses were for people who were special to you.

Vatti and aunty were both very special to her, and she assumed that Del was special to vatti as well. It only made sense, but then why had he pulled out a gun? Brigitte still wanted to cry when she thought about that incident, but vatti said that he'd apologized. He said that things would be better now, and that he and aunty had been spending time alone together to sort things out. She didn't know what adults talked about when alone, and maybe Del had never given him more than one kiss, but adults liked and needed alone time. That much Brigitte understood.

"Your teacher is looking for you," someone announced, and Brigitte stiffened. It was the man with the scar, and he was walking closer with that sad expression of his. She'd never seen someone who looked so cold most of the time. He never smiled, but then again, smiling wasn't for people who murdered mothers.

"Ich weiss," she softly replied, trying not to look at him. He still scared her, no matter what vatti said about the man.

"You'll be in trouble if you don't go," the man continued.

"Ich weiss," she repeated, staring at the spoon with a frown, and then: "Why are you always so sad, sir?"

"Sad?" the man asked, and she finally looked at him. It seemed like he was looking through rather than at her, and she shifted in discomfort. "Do I look sad?" he asked, his voice soft and uneasy.

"You look sad whenever I see you," Brigitte quietly offered, the spoon going still in her hands.

"Maybe I am," but the man didn't sound convinced. "I have a little girl in Germany, you know. She's older than you, but not by much. She's even got blond hair like you, but I don't get to see her very often. I go on leave for a week whenever it's her birthday, and Marion, my wife, always arranges a small party. She says that she never knows what we're celebrating: a birthday or my homecoming...She'll be ready to give birth again in about three months."

"That's nice," Brigitte commented, thinking about how nice it would be to have a birthday party with vatti. He would be hers for an entire day, but was the scarred man really also a father? She looked at him with less fear than usual, wondering how he could have killed her mother. It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense lately, and sometimes she'd go to the shed and talk into the darkness to clear her mind. She'd never heard the sound of crying again, but the place still felt as lonely and sad as she sometimes felt.

"He had me kill the boy." Brigitte didn't know what the scarred man was talking about, but she didn't like hearing death mentioned. Her feet landed on the carpeted floor, and she stared at the man, thinking that he looked sadder than she'd ever seen him.

"I'm...I'm sorry that you're sad," she nervously told him. He smiled, but it wasn't a pretty smile. There was something wrong in the way that he could look so sad but smile at the same time.

"And I'm sorry as well, Brigitte," the man spoke, taking a step closer to her. The close proximity frightened Brigitte, and she nearly panicked when he set a hand on her head, stroking her hair. "Can you forgive me?" he asked. "Please forgive me." What was he talking about? He sounded so desperate, and Brigitte felt that denying him forgiveness would be wrong, but she could see his gun now, and he was scaring her so badly. So she ran. She ran and didn't look back, leaving him there looking forlorn and lost as she decided that facing her tutor would be easier than dealing with someone who made her want to cry.

XXXXXxxxXXXXXXXXxxxxxXXXxxx

All that time and effort, and she didn't even know if the boy still lived. Marlene felt herself slipping as she found Adelgiese sitting on the bench beside the gardening shed, morning glory vines framing the woman's face as leaves brushed brown hair and pale ears. The German looked about as happy as she herself felt, and for the first time in months, Marlene could feel a piece of herself crumbling. Like a cliff overlooking the sea, she felt the waves crashing into her, eroding her piecemeal and making her wonder how much longer the cliff could stand.

_Stop being so damn sentimental._

The German was looking at her now, watching her slow but sure approach. Were any of Landa's men watching them? Marlene didn't know or care as she took a seat beside Adelgiese, her mind anywhere but on the beautiful garden before her. The garden was always too quiet now. Maybe she would set fire to it before this was finished, but the madame would never have forgiven her for that. Perhaps she would save a few roses then, drying and keeping them until she had a grave of her own on which to lay them.

"We must make quite a pair," she commented. "A German and a Frenchwoman sitting in a garden, brooding over life in the middle of a damn war."

"Let people stare," Adelgiese replied, sounding hard and unhappy.

"That repressed anger will do you no good," Marlene stated, sensing a violent torrent within her companion. "It makes you bitter, and the more that you hold onto it, the more it kills you. You'll wake up one day and realize that it's the only thing that keeps you going anymore."

"Does it keep you alive?"

"Partly," Marlene admitted with a sardonic smile. "But I'd probably go on living out of pure stubbornness too." Adelgiese shook her head with a sigh, leaning her brown hair back against the flowers, and looking like the world-weary woman that Marlene assumed her to be.

"It's not anger," the German shared. "Or...no, part of it is anger, but more is frustration."

"One often leads to the other," Marlene knowingly warned.

…

"Did the boy make it?" She watched the younger woman, trying to see beyond the stern features that reminded her so much of herself. This was a strong woman, but even strong women could grow discouraged behind their determined faces.

"No," Adelgiese stated. "Landa got him. I'm sorry."

_Not the last one._

Marlene closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop, but she couldn't prevent a few from sliding free. They ran down her course cheeks, softening her hard features and making an intake of breath catch in her throat. Her eyes only reopened slowly, when they were again dry, and then the old maid braced hands against her knees, the next sigh leaving her lips and expelling the torment with it.

"There is nothing more to be done about it then," she allowed. "It was always a long shot, and the boy's existence was miserable as it was. At least it is over for him."

_And he's reunited with his family now—the only family that I ever knew as well. _

"Don't envy the dead," Adelgiese ordered. "Never envy the dead."

"There's no envy about it," Marlene disdainfully huffed. "But I won't complain when it's my turn to go either—unless I die without doing anything about this hellhole first, that is." And she nodded toward the house with her head. "I heard about what happened. The story is going through the underground like fire, and...and they say that you personally fought Landa to try and save the child." The German allowed herself a distant, false smile.

"The boy is dead, and it was my fault."

"Bullshit," Marlene grunted. "Perhaps you are partly to blame, but we all were involved. Sometimes we have to take risks that don't always work out." She noticed a sparrow landing on the garden wall, and she stared at its brown feathers and bouncy movements. Such a simple creature, and so oblivious. "I didn't try hard enough to fight off the SS when they came to the home. Madame told me not to, but I knew better. I watched the family die when they finally tried to resist, and I was so angry with myself for having done nothing to prevent it. And now? Now I realize that I could have done more but accomplished less in doing so."

"You're not angry?" Adelgiese asked.

"Sometimes, but I feel nothing most of the time—just the will to keep going. I think that you'll handle your frustration better than I ever did. You'll survive it without losing your heart. You strike me as that type of woman, and if you've been locking horns with Landa this entire time, you're one hell of a woman indeed." Here she smiled, thinking about someone standing up to Landa, even hitting him. By the holy mother, she would have loved to have seen that. "I see the way that you look after Brigitte," she continued. "You still have goals and dreams, and you're brave. You'll get through this if you don't do anything stupid."

"Hmmm."

…

"How did he die?"

"You want to know?" Adelgiese asked in surprise, and Marlene merely nodded. She had to hear this for her own sense of closure. "Schneider caught him. Then he shot the boy in the back."

"Better than the camps," Marlene thoughtfully decided.

"I won't do anything more," the German reiterated. "I'm done with this." Listening to the birds sing, Marlene wished that she could be as solid as this younger woman beside her, and what a strange thought that was. They were on opposite sides, or rather, somewhere in the middle on their own side. Thinking about it now, perhaps they were more similar than they would ever openly admit.

"We can go back to being enemies tomorrow," Marlene agreed. "No more collaboration for us. There's no need anyway, and what is to come cannot be shared with you." Adelgiese didn't need to say anything, her silence being answer enough, but they remained sitting on that bench, staring at flowers as Old Guy came out of the house to pull weeds. His wrinkled hands worked away, his knees shaking ever so slightly as he crouched to search out invading plants. He'd been here longer than even Marlene, and it was the only home that he'd ever known, according to him. If and when he died, Marlene had promised to bury him in the flowerbed, beneath his handiwork.

"My parents had a garden," Adelgiese shared. "Father often chased me around it."

"I can't remember being young anymore," Marlene replied. "I doubt if I was ever young." And she nodded at Old Guy in greeting. "May I ask you a personal question, Adelgiese?" She'd been thinking about a certain issue since Landa had allowed his German maid to have the day off yesterday, directly after the woman had physically assaulted him.

"Oui."

"Why has Landa spared you? You have bruises on your neck, but if that's the only punishment that he gave you, then he was being generous." Marlene had her own suspicions on that account, for Landa spent private time with this woman that he would have otherwise reserve for his own peace and quiet. There was clearly something more to this situation than met the eye, and she wouldn't put it past Adelgiese to be sleeping with the man to secure her position. This woman didn't seem silly enough to attach emotional stock or love to sex in this kind of environment, so it was plausible.

"My French is not good enough for this," the German openly stated, sounding unconcerned. "Landa is not an easy man to understand. Do you think that I'm fucking him?"

"It doesn't matter what I think," Marlene casually dismissed.

"I'm not," Adelgiese said with a small, tight smile, and then she sighed. "He likes his games. He likes to be clever and show it. The rest...but my French is poor." They lapsed into silence, but Adelgiese wished to say more. Marlene could sense that the other woman wasn't finished speaking, but perhaps the words would not come. Sometimes speaking wasn't worth the effort anyway.

"Marlene," the German finally continued, fixing Marlene with a look that killed any argument. "Don't tell me anything. Say nothing. I cared for the boy. He was a child, but I am not Free French. If Brigitte is in danger, I will fight for Landa." So this short friendliness was over. Marlene nodded, accepting the reality of the situation as she stood.

"Watch your back, Mädchen."

"I will." Such a strong woman, but that was the only kind that could survive when living day to day. Marlene bid the woman farewell as she moved toward the house, knowing that a vigilante group would be pushing to attack Landa and the house now that the boy was gone. Her objections had lost their foundation, and part of her longed to witness the attack firsthand—to grab her broom and beat Schneider across the head until his crown broke and blood spilled forth. It only seemed fitting, but Adelgiese would not be spared in such an attack, and nor would Brigitte. They would be killed for being German and for vengeance against Landa, and yet, Marlene didn't think that they deserved to die.

_It doesn't matter in war_.

But Marlene found herself wishing that things were different. Maybe there were some dreams and hopes left within her old, tired body after all.

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For all of the propaganda and claims of superiority, Landa questioned whether or not Germany could actually win this war. He could see the edges of the Reich fraying, and the threat of a complete unraveling prowled on the peripheral due to the strength of America and her British allies. He was a detective, and one whose enemies stood little chance against him, but his powers were limited to the rebels and those in hiding. He could root them out and destroy them, but an entire army was another matter entirely. As effective as he was, he could only hunt where the hunting grounds were secured by the greater Reich, for he was no soldier or combatant, and the thought of running into battle against tanks struck him as utterly asinine. He didn't even begin to feel the dedication to either Germany or a cause that such actions would require.

So he considered his options, knowing full well how poorly the SS would be treated should the war be a losing one for his current side. He himself had an infamous reputation on top of that, which meant that more than a few people would be scrambling to rip out his heart in the war's aftermath. He wasn't particularly good at dealing with pain in the first place, but he'd experienced his fair share, and he'd managed to overcome it with some manner of grace in the end. Heart ripping though...Well, fending off an angry mob of bloodthirsty victors didn't appeal to him, but it needn't necessarily get to that stage either.

There were always options if one looked hard enough.

Landa shut the balcony doors and put on a record. This time it was Django's J'attendrai, the smooth music caressing his ears as he mentally commended Grappelli for being so competent on both the violin and piano. Tapping a heel against the floor, he enjoyed a cigarette while losing himself in the tune, his mind considering the options that might be open to him. Often the perfect opportunity appeared out of nowhere, and there was usually a very limited window in which to exploit it.

"The Sheik of Araby," he stated as a new song began. Funny, it sounded nothing like what a Sheik would listen to, but then again, Django didn't sound like something that an SS oberst would favor either. Landa smiled at the thought as he sat at his desk, knowing that it was late and that he should call it a night. He'd already ordered some hot tea though, which was unlike him, but he was simply in that kind of a mood.

"Vatti?" Brigitte poked her head around the door, her expression questioning as she stared at him.

"Why are you out of bed at this hour?" Landa asked, neither inviting nor unfriendly. He watched as his daughter shuffled into the room in her nightgown, her blond hair loose and falling about her face. It seemed that she had a propensity for wandering around barefoot, just like her aunt did.

"I couldn't sleep," Brigitte told him, walking around the desk to stand beside him.

"Nightmares?" he asked, leaning back with his arms crossed over his lap.

"Nein," she slowly replied, looking nervous. Where had her openness gone? "Too many thoughts. I can't stop thinking."

"Come here," Landa offered, lifting her onto his lap. Everyone else was wary around him, but Brigitte never had been until recently, and he found himself missing her honest affection. "Are you still upset about what happened with aunty?" he knowingly asked, and the girl silently nodded.

"You don't do that to people you love," the girl explained, leaning against his chest and wrapping arms around his neck. "You're suppose to protect us."

"I won't hurt Del again unless she forces me to," Landa explained, equally pensive.

"Promise that you won't hurt her!" Brigitte demanded, her eyes watering. "Promise that she won't go away like mutti did. You didn't protect mutti. Now she's gone." The girl was becoming more distraught with each word, and Landa felt her tears against his neck, her sniffing nose against his skin. How strange that someone was looking to him for comfort.

"My angel," he spoke into her hair. "You and Del are both in my care. I promise to keep you safe." The girl buried her face deeper into the crook of his neck, and he found himself soothing her tears away, holding her as his own parents had never done for him. Having his mother wail hysterically when he was hurt, and her trying to hold him had been both embarrassing and repulsive, and his father had never extended such an offer. But Brigitte expected him to be there for her, even though he'd never given her any reassurance. What made her so loving and trusting at an age when he'd already been tricking his younger sibling into doing his chores?

"You'll never go away either, right?" Brigitte asked, sounding both demanding and frightened.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised, enjoying how her tiny fingers were again playing with the hair near the nape of his neck.

"You'll stay with aunty and me and never go away." She said it with great force, as if she were desperate for it to be so, and Landa had to admit that he'd never felt so wanted in his entire life.

Knock. Knock.

"Herr Oberst?"

"Come in, Del," Landa called, still holding his daughter as Adelgiese entered. The woman carried a tray set with tea, steam rising from the pot's spout as she moved toward the coffee table. That was where she always put his drinks, and while she did so, he looked at his daughter's content face. The girl always looked most content when the three of them were together.

He heard the tray rattle, signaling that Adelgiese had completed her task, but he did not hear her leaving. He looked up, and there she stood near the couch, her face soft, and an oddly warm expression settling over her features. She was watching him with Brigitte, and there was even a faint smile about the woman's lips, but there was a trace of sadness there as well, the morose context of her smile tempering an expression that might have otherwise looked pleased.

"Del," he began, breaking the woman's warm countenance. "The premier is not for several more days, but Goebbels is hosting a party for Friedrich Zoller tomorrow night. Would you care to attend? Brigitte has requested it, and I think that it's a marvelous idea. In fact, I hope that you pardon my presumption, but I already have a dress selected for you."

"It'd be perfect!" Brigitte smiled, her tears now gone. The only evidence of their passing were the wet trails that ran down her cheeks, but Landa quickly smoothed them away with his thumb. The maid would not say no. How could she when Brigitte was so excited, and he himself had all but told her that she was going? How delightfully annoyed she probably was as she approached his desk.

"Will you come with us?" Brigitte was asking, bouncing like mad on his lap.

"I would be thrilled," Adelgiese replied, keeping a straight face. "Thank you, sir. I realize that it is strange for a man of your stature to take a maid to a party."

"Nonsense!" Landa grinned. "We don't think of you as a maid, do we, Brigitte?"

"No," the girl heartily agreed. "You're aunty, and he's vatti. We're family!" Now there was an interesting idea. Landa couldn't control his amused expression as Adelgiese almost visibly rolled her eyes. My, my, she certainly was cynical and sarcastic beneath her subservience and frustration.

"I'll see you tomorrow night then," he smirked, dismissing her. For once, he was actually looking forward to one of Goebbels' parties. Wonders never ceased.

"Umph," he growled, hurriedly shifting Brigitte's weight away from the center of his lap. If the girl almost kneed him in the crouch one more time...


	17. Chapter 17: M ake Me Stare

Chapter 17: Make Me Stare

"I'm so excited!" Brigitte bubbled, standing beside Adelgiese on the front steps of a large building. Her blond hair was curled and twirled up onto her head, and her green dress was cut with a wide collar so that the sleeves rested across the edges of her shoulders. It was a rather adult look for a child, but the girl didn't notice anything beyond the silky fabric and white gloves that made her feel like a princess. Admittedly, she did look like royalty, and the girl's enthusiasm was rubbing off on Adelgiese, who smiled despite the thought of the Nazis inside. After all, she'd been in her element in such social settings before, and she was dressed for the part—the situation so familiar that she was quickly falling into practiced habits from long ago.

"You look pretty," Brigitte told her. "Vatti has good taste."

"I can't argue," Adelgiese muttered, ascending the steps and drawing stares from several men who lingered outside to smoke and chat in the comfortable, spring air. Her black dress was long, falling to her feet in smooth waves of rich fabric that were enhanced by splashes of glittering material that stretched upward from the hem toward her thighs. The back was left open, and the front dipped between her breasts, two sparkling straps crisscrossing over the small gap between her breasts and rising to loop around her neck. From the dress to the heels, to the long earrings that dangled beneath her waved hair, she felt elegant, but Landa wasn't a man to be seen in public with someone who looked anything less. She wondered what kind of woman he usually brought to these events.

"Are you ready?" Adelgiese asked, reaching the door and holding one of Brigitte's hands.

"Yep," the girl answered.

"Remember to act like a proper young lady." It was funny how saying such things made her feel like a mother.

"I'll remember." They stepped inside, strolling into the midst of the officers, politicians, and ladies, all of whom were decked out in their finest. This was an upscale affair meant for the mingling of those with influence and position, which made Adelgiese feel decidedly out of place, but her walk was graceful and easy, and one of her hands automatically swiped a champagne flute from a passing tray. Her eyes scanned the crowd for Landa while Brigitte was busy staring at the glittering chandelier overhead, and the grand staircase to the right swept upward to a landing where Goebbels could be seen talking with a pudgy man who obviously needed an upgrade in uniform size.

"It's like a fairytale," Brigitte commented, and Adelgiese had to agree, except that the ever present swastikas tarnished the room's beauty. "Do you see vatti?"

"No." But she was looking. Landa had gone ahead of them for security purposes, which were evidenced by the guards that were heavily sprinkled along the edges of the room, but Landa himself was absent. Where was he?

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Look at her.

Landa smiled as he prowled along the room's edge, his eyes fixed on Adelgiese and Brigitte. The latter looked adorable as she tried to act like an adult, and the former was simply stunning. He'd seen beautiful women in his lifetime, but that woman was something beyond the usual, and he loved how other men glanced at her with concealed lust, each gauging his chances of making it with such a stunner. Who would guess that she was a maid with the way that she held herself, spinning to greet people with an air of confidence and grace? Kisses landed on her hand, and women complimented her dress, making polite conversation while Adelgiese sipped on her champagne.

Hellstrom was striking up a conversation with the woman now, his youthful appeal and smile making Adelgiese tilt her head flirtatiously. Oh, but she certainly knew how to cater to people and earn their regard by doing such. Poor Hellstrom didn't stand a chance with the woman though, as the bright red badge on his forearm proved. He saw Del's eyes glance off of it, and then her gaze shifted, finding him in the crowd with those blue jewels of hers.

"You're detaining my date, Dieter," Landa chuckled, interrupting the two.

"_Your_ date?" Hellstrom inquired, sounding slightly surprised. "Well, my apologies to both of you. If you should grow tired of the colonel's company, Del..." He was already calling her Del? Landa swallowed his frown as Adelgiese again smiled at the man, allowing him another kiss of her hand.

"It seems that Hans keeps charming company," she joked.

"And he tends to attract beautiful women," Dieter smiled, offering a slight nod of his head to Landa and conceding defeat. "I might beg your indulgence, sir, but should you wander off with another woman, as sometimes happens, I won't hold myself accountable for my actions." Landa ignored Adelgiese's questioning look and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer. Hellstrom was only jesting, but he wasn't about to let his colleague get any ideas. The boy was known for his cunning and womanizing, not unlike himself, and while he wasn't worried about Adelgiese slipping away with the man, he was damn well going to stake his claim regardless.

"A little protective, colonel?" Adelgiese jokingly spoke in his ear, but he saw through her playful smile. He warned her to watch herself with a squeeze of her waist, the woman merely tossing hair over her shoulder in response and laughing as Hellstrom asked Brigitte for a dance.

"May I, vatti?" the girl asked.

"Enjoy yourself," Landa encouraged, watching Hellstrom wander off with his daughter. He then turned his full attention to Adelgiese, the woman leaning into his grip and moving lips toward his ear.

"And what kind of woman do you usually bring to these things that you wander off?"

"I usually come alone," Landa retorted. "No strings attached. _Behave yourself_." She even smelled good as his nose turned toward her hair, the soft locks brushing across his shoulder.

"Please," Adelgiese said, her smile and tone dropping. "I'm merely trying to be pleasant and enjoy the evening since I'm here. Besides, if you wander off, I'm going to assume that you won't mind me keeping company elsewhere." He liked how she felt against his side, but he released her, his charming smile firmly in place.

"Such an innocent act," he chided. "But if you're planning to avoid me, it won't work. I'm surprised at your being so rude after I bought you such a stunning outfit. You look good enough to..."

"Herr Oberst!" a feminine voice interrupted them, a woman in a tight, red dress slinking forward.

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Landa wasn't going to let her spend the night alone, and she knew it, but that being the case, Adelgiese was not planning on being submissive to his will. Obliging perhaps, but this public setting was more in her favor than his. The man would simply have to tolerate her flippant regard and flirting for one evening, and if he thought that she'd be grateful to him for anything after he'd murdered that child, he had another thing coming. Speaking of flirting, he didn't seem to like Hellstrom laying the charm on her with his dark, handsome features. It was a shame that the young man was so attractive, for despite his physical appeal, he reminded her of Landa with his words and easy command. The entire building was a den of vipers it seemed.

"Herr Oberst!" Who was this woman with the sauntering hips and long-lashed eyes? The blond was approaching Landa with an appreciative and seductive eye, a brief glance telling Adelgiese that this woman already held disdain for her. It was a disdain bred from competition, and the heightened tension made Adelgiese want to gag in disbelief. This woman could have Landa for the evening if she wanted him, for it would spare her the man's threatening undercurrent and sudden kisses. She didn't know what bothered her more: the fact that Landa had kissed her, or that she wasn't repulsed by said attention. His lips were actually quite soft, and he surprised her with how gentle he could be, as if he were trying to persuade her to indulge in his attentions.

_I'm sure that he's not used to hearing 'no'._

"Lorraine!" Landa greeted, planting a chaste kiss on the woman's right cheek. Other people were now gathering around them, and Landa greeted them as well, Adelgiese naturally being pulled into the social group with him. Landa kept her firmly by his side as he extended formalities and introductions, his hand finally gesturing to the woman in red. "And this is Lorraine Zimmer, an old friend of mine."

"A very good friend," the woman subtly smiled, her eyes flipping over Adelgiese, who merely returned the stare with a cool, forced smile.

"A pleasure," she lied, Landa regarding the exchange with obvious amusement.

"To set the record straight," he said, now turning toward the two SS men beside him. "This blue-eyed beauty is indeed mine for the evening, so restrain yourselves." Laughter rippled through the group as Landa again wrapped his free arm around Adelgiese's waist, pulling her closer, much to the annoyance of the other woman. "I consider myself a connoisseur of lovely women, but this one," he smiled at her, "I don't think that I could allow myself to share her."

"You are truly beautiful, Fraulein Hoffman," one of the man told her.

"Danke," she smiled, playing along.

"She does clean up well for a maid, doesn't she?"

_What?_

Adelgiese's hands nearly clenched in rage at Landa's flippant comment. How _dare_ he intentionally embarrass her. She locked eyes with him, anger radiating from her as the other woman gave a throaty laugh, and Landa merely giving her his best, cruel smile. Was he trying to prove that he could make this evening horrible for her if she didn't mind herself? His humor always seemed to have such a biting edge to it.

"A maid?" Lorraine asked. "Excuse me, Hans, but you truly have broadened your tastes."

"Like I said," he mockingly chuckled. "I'm a connoisseur, and a man can't resist such beautiful, blue eyes on any woman, no matter her station." His comments seemed to waylay whatever competition this other woman felt, for Lorraine seemed perfectly pleased now, eyeing Adelgiese as if she were merely a humorous impostor. For her part, Adelgiese could have slapped the smile right off of Landa's face, for whether or not she cared about someone else trying to take him, she would not stand for being humiliated in such a manner. Years might have passed, but she still felt that sharp, aggressive streak that had once kept her at the top of her game at parties like this, and so she _would_ ensure that she had a good time tonight. She was determined now, and if that meant ignoring the swastikas, so be it.

"You seem a little tense, Del," Landa quietly commented in her ear.

"Excuse me," she said, pushing away from him. "I'm going to get another drink."

"Don't be away long," Landa seemingly entreated, the other woman already moving in for the kill. Lorraine was nearly touching him she stood so close, and Adelgiese could imagine what disparaging comments the woman was making about her when she leaned toward Landa's ear with a secretive smile like that. Landa said something in reply that made the group laugh, but Adelgiese didn't give them the dignity of seeing her look back as she walked away. What a ridiculous game to be sucked into. This was why she'd stayed away from parties for the most part, using her coolness to keep unwanted people at bay. There had been one particular woman who'd insulted her at a birthday party once—something about cars and oral sex, but it no longer matter—and while Adelgiese couldn't remember the exact reason for her wrath, she did remember arranging for the woman's dress to tear in a very embarrassing manner.

_The garbage that I used to waste my time doing._

She scoffed at herself as she found a server, her hand about to pluck a glass from his tray when she noticed Hellstrom leading Brigitte away from the dance floor. He noticed her as well, and she smiled invitingly, wordlessly beckoning him forward.

"How was the dance?" she asked.

"Weren't you watching?" Brigitte demanded. "I looked great. That's what he says." The girl pointed at Hellstrom.

"I'm sure you looked wonderful," Adelgiese lightly laughed. "Why don't you go find vatti? He's right over there, and I'm going to see if this handsome man won't offer me a dance." The child readily agreed, running off to find Landa, who Adelgiese could see through the crowd, still flattering that woman in red. She wondered how Brigitte would affect the situation and the woman's attentions.

"Beautiful," Hellstrom said, offering her his hand. "Shall we?"

"I would be delighted," she smiled, sliding into his arms and being pulled onto the dance floor. "You were right when you said that Hans wanders." It had been so long since she'd danced like this, and it felt surprisingly nice to be sweeping across a floor after so long. The steps came back so easily, and she felt as beautiful as everyone had claimed whenever Hellstrom turned her. She let herself forget about the swastika on the man's uniform as he pulled her closer than necessary, for she might as well be a nameless woman at a neutral party at this point.

"It's his loss," the young man spoke with a dark, charming smile. "I did warn him, and he might be my superior, but there's a bit of a competition between us. He solves one case; I solve another. He should know that I appreciate the same exact things that he does..."

xxxxxXXXXXXXXXxxxxxXXXXXXxx

"Let's go somewhere more private," Lorraine suggested, her words drawn out in a seductive drawl as she lightly ran a finger across the back of his hand. Perhaps a quick romp in a side room would be acceptable, for Landa hadn't indulged in a while. Work could be a terrible preoccupation when it came to bedding women and seeing to his needs, which he admittedly often neglected. He'd called on that whore from the other party not even a week ago, but whores were easy. They were good for a quick release, but not very engaging when it came down to it. He much preferred persuading someone to give themselves to him rather than offering money, and when the other person truly wanted it, the level of energy made the extra effort worthwhile.

"You haven't visited me since last year," the woman pouted.

Then again, perhaps this wasn't all that difficult compared to a whore after all. Lorraine liked sex, men, and the fast life. Bedding him was an adrenaline rush for her, and as devoid of emotion as he often was when he took someone, which of course made for an easy break afterwords that he favored, but given how many men had probably taken her, she wasn't a very remarkable lay. Knowing all the tricks in the book didn't guarantee an otherworldly experience.

"It _has_ been a while," he mused, eyes traveling down the front of her dress. "Perhaps..."

"Vatti!" His head snapped sideways to find Brigitte standing there in a huff, her eyes scathingly fixed on the woman in red.

"Brigitte," he tersely greeted.

"You have a child?" the woman asked with concern.

"He's my vatti," the girl assertively claimed, slipping her hand into Landa's. "Del told me to come over here with you," she continued, ignoring Lorraine. "She's busy dancing with Dieter." Landa's eyes quickly jerked toward the dance floor, Hellstrom and Adelgiese clearly visible as the major dipped her and then pulled her flush against him. Was she touching his hair? The little minx was trying to set him off, the thought sending a rush of heated blood through Landa, and his mind transfixed on the scene with both arousal and annoyance.

"Excuse me, my dear," he told Brigitte. "Watch Del for a moment. I'll be right back." He began guiding Lorraine out of the room, but a sharp huff from behind his back told him that Brigitte was following. "Brigitte," he severely intoned, turning.

"You said that this is _our_ special night," his daughter argued, looking more serious and impertinent than he had ever seen her. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she was glaring at Lorraine. "_Our_ night," she repeated. "So who's she?" One accusing finger pointed at the woman.

"Hans, really," Lorraine protested. "This is a bit inconvenient. Maybe we can meet later..."

"That won't be necessary," Landa dismissed. "Brigitte, I gave you an order."

"Aber vatti..." Her glare was melting into a concerned frown. He would not be questioned again, and Brigitte must have sensed that, for she slowly turned and droopingly walked away, her dejected state telling Landa that he had let her down once again. On top of that, Lorraine's decidedly heated and lustful gaze had dissipated in the argument, and she was slowly pulling away from him, but he wasn't going to let her go so easily now that she'd offered herself to him.

"This way," he instructed her, forcefully guiding her into a back room where he ordered several servers to leave them alone. He was going to relieve some tension before tackling his maid's attempts to defy and antagonize him. "Lift you dress," he ordered.

xxxxxXXXXXXXXXXXXXxxxxXxXX

"Enjoying yourself?"

Adelgiese turned to find Landa behind her as she exited the dance floor on Dieter's arm. She was rather breathless from a fast waltz, and flushed from the energy and surprising enjoyment of Dieter's company. He was witty, but not nearly as mocking or threatening in his demeanor as Landa was, and so she'd even laughed with him, aware that Landa had been watching them from the sidelines for at least two songs now.

"Dieter here is showing me a wonderful time," she smiled, laughing as he turned her once more, one of his hands gliding across her waist as she spun.

"I like Dieter!" Brigitte seconded, popping her head between Dieter and Adelgiese's thighs. The girl had been running amuck on the dance floor, dancing in circles between couples, and even clapping to the music on occasion. That was, of course, only after the girl had finished moping at a side table, her angry voice having recounted Landa's dismissal and absence with the woman in red to Adelgiese. The girl still looked sore over that as she looked at her father.

"I thank you for the pleasure of your company, Del," Dieter said, grazing her knuckles with his lips in a light kiss. Landa's face was dark, his mood clearly taking a dive as Adelgiese ran a finger across Dieter's lower lip after the kiss. Well, it was the bastard's own fault for having embarrassed her earlier, although she hadn't done this simply to anger him. In fact, she'd been fairly certain that Landa wouldn't think anything of her absence since he was busy with the other woman, and the dancing had been for herself, not him. That her activities with Dieter were grating on Landa's nerves was an added bonus, and glancing at his predatory face, she could only recall his claim that she was now his to do with as he pleased.

_Leck mich am Arsch, Herr Oberst. _

"I shall return this lovely lady to you, sir," Hellstrom offered, obviously removing himself from the tense situation. "Thank you for lending her to me. Auf wiedersehen, Fraulein Hoffman." Adelgiese returned the farewell and then found herself stuck with Landa, the man stalking closer and quickly taking her arm. Where had Brigitte snuck off to?

"Did the major entertain you?" he lowly asked, guiding her toward the edge of the room.

"He was quite charming," Adelgiese honestly answered. "Brigitte mentioned that you were also being entertained." He gave her a cold smile that denied nothing as he motioned toward the wide doorway that led into the main foyer.

"I was merely catching up with an old friend," he dismissed.

"I imagine that your medals and uniform draw a lot of women into your embrace," Adelgiese loudly mused, following his lead toward the building's entryway.

"Do you disapprove?" he asked, sounding mildly bored.

"I couldn't care less," she honestly answered. "Let the fools fall at your feet."

"So you don't consider yourself a fool then." Adelgiese began glancing around for Brigitte, concerned about the girl wandering off and getting into trouble.

"I might be a fool, sir, but not in that sense of the word. Have you seen your daughter?"

"I was thinking that...Del." He forcefully turned her to face him, his expression perturbed. "I expect you to look at me when I'm talking to you. That's better. I'm not the most patient man when it comes to being ignored, Fraulein." His hand slid free from her elbow and found her lower back, his digits wandering ever lower down her exposed skin. "Did you let Dieter's hand go this low?" he quietly asked, lips grazing her earlobe.

"Are you a glutton for punishment, Herr Oberst?" Adelgiese tauntingly asked, inwardly smacking herself for pressing the man further. "If I didn't know better, I would guess that you're becoming a bit possessive of me." The thought was terrifying, making her want to squirm in discomfort and deny the idea, but such a claim matched his recent behavior too well for that. Whereas he'd once hardly glanced at her, his attention had steadily increased, and she could see that his increased interest corresponded with his investigation of her. The more he'd learned, the more time he'd spent with her, and each event that had brought his attention to her had somehow magnified his presence in her personal life. Even the situations where she'd been found guilty of acting against him didn't make him dismiss her, and the more she pondered his decisions, the more she realized that she'd never met anyone more dangerous or convoluted than this man.

"Did you let his lips touch your neck?"

Landa's mouth gently passed across her jawline, his breath warm, and his hair grazing her cheek. She was going to hit him sooner or later—probably when he tightened the noose to the point where she might as well hang herself.

"Hans!" Both turned to see Lorraine storming toward them. "Call off this little vixen!" True enough, Brigitte was trailing right behind the woman, her voice shrill and angry.

"You should go away and never come back!" the girl was seething, her eyes dark blue and stormy. "Oh, hallo, Del," she greeted, switching tones as she finally noticed her aunt. The girl was at Adelgiese's side in an instant, holding her aunt's hand while scowling at Lorraine. "Tell her to go away, Del."

"Hans, your daughter has been harassing me for almost ten minutes now." The woman's accusation drew many eyes in their direction, and Adelgiese grinned like a mad woman, holding Brigitte's hand and guiding the girl toward the exit.

"Let's go, Brigitte."

"But what about vatti? Vatti! You're not leaving us for her again, are you?" Politely stifled laughter rippled through the room, Landa maintaining a false, thin smile as Lorraine waited for him to speak. "Vatti?"

"Leave him be," Adelgiese loudly told the girl. "Vatti is an adult and can make an ass out of himself whenever he wants to." She secretly smiled to herself, wickedly pleased as she took Brigitte and left, having a grunt call up the car for her. Landa joined them shortly thereafter, looking composed but irritated as the car took them home. Brigitte refused to speak to either of them for the entire trip, and when they finally reached the house, she hopped inside without looking at them.

"She's very angry with you for disappointing her," Adelgiese knowingly stated, standing in the foyer while Landa hung his coat in the closet.

"Disappointment is part of reality, my dear," Landa replied, still sounding terse. It was probably best to leave him alone, and so Adelgiese began climbing the stairs, the colonel hot on her heels, and her feet aching from wearing uncomfortable shoes for so long. She tried to focus on thoughts of sleep, but she could feel Landa directly behind her. His discontented presence pressed against her back, and she could feel his pent up energy and words waiting to be released in his current state. There was probably no avoiding it, and hell, she might as well take her dose of medicine now. So she stopped at the top of the staircase and faced him if only to discern what awaited her either tonight or tomorrow morning perhaps. Calmer now, he was staring at her without any expression, and her eyes wandered over the medals hanging from the front of his uniform.

"So many awards," she mused, reaching out to touch one. "For many women that works, but do you know when you're the most attractive to me, Oberst?" Something stirred in the depths of his eyes, the hunger there working toward the surface. "When you smile at your daughter—not one of your fake smiles, but a real one. _You_ seem more real when you're with her." Her back hit the wall as Landa suddenly pressed her against it, his lips capturing hers with fierce domination. His mouth seemed to be everywhere at once. Her throat, her cheeks, her lips, her ears. It was like he was intent on tasting every square inch of her skin, and the shock of his fervor knocked her senses aside, stunning her with the sheer depth of his desire for her.

_Oh._

His pelvis was pressed against her thigh now, and she knew without a doubt that whatever satisfaction he'd found in Lorraine had not dispelled his lust. How long had he been craving her like this? She found her lips pressed against his mouth, that cruel mouth that made so many threats and demands. He was such a controlled man, but his grip on the reins appeared to slip further with each encouraging touch that she made, the thought of having the power to reduce this calculating man to primal urgency sending an unexpected thrill through her system. For once, she felt that she truly held power over him instead of the opposite.

"The entire time," he aggressively hissed. "I was thinking about you."

How the hell had he gone from threatening her with a gun to slipping hands into her dress? His palms were flat against her exposed back, sliding down beneath the dress's fabric to grip her backside as the click of an opening door registered somewhere in the back of Adelgiese's mind.

"Vatti? Aunty?" Landa pulled his hands free, but did not cease pressing Adelgiese against the wall as his head swiveled to look at his daughter, who stood outside of her bedroom door with an odd, but almost happy expression.

"Was jetzt?" Landa growled at the girl.

"I'm ready to be tucked in. Del tucks me in." Landa reluctantly released Adelgiese, who attempted to straighten her dress as she hurried down the hallway. The colonel was slowly advancing behind her, and she knew it, perfectly capable of imagining him strolling with that hunger barely concealed, and his hands loosening his tie. She situated Brigitte in bed and found the man lurking outside the door when she exited, his eyes glued on her. She'd never seen a leer of such intensity in her entire life.

"Goodnight, Herr Oberst," and she stepped into her own room, praying that he wouldn't try to follow her. The thought of him pressing her into a mattress was wrong on so many levels that even entertaining the thought struck her as borderline immoral. He was the type of man that a woman should never give into without thought, and afterwards, his kind never stayed. If wanting her was the only reason that he kept her around, she was in serious trouble.

"Goodnight, Del," he sharply enunciated, an almost feral rumble sounding from within his chest as she shut the door in his face. She locked it just for good measure, even if the gesture was pointless, and then she leaned against the door, her thoughts scrambled. Sex could not be his sole motivation. It was too simple for Landa, and she wondered if his insistence on keeping her didn't stem from whatever had originally sparked his lust. He was probably still digging into her past, even if he said nothing about the scar that he'd seen, but how much longer would that last?

"What is the name of this new game, Landa?"

There was no answer for her as she crawled into bed, but maybe more of an advantage had shifted in her favor with this turn of events. Being able to demolish a man's control was not something to be taken lightly, especially when said man was a cunning bastard.


	18. Chapter 18: E nding the Silence

Chapter 18: Ending the Silence

"I don't understand her at all," Elle complained. The young woman was pulling her curls into a tight bun atop her head, the surrounding darkness hiding her face from her stoic companion. It was very late in the evening, and while Elle was usually home by now, she'd stayed at Landa's home much longer than intended today. The man and all of his lackeys had been absent due to some prestigious party, and even Adelgiese and Brigitte had accompanied the men, meaning that the house had been devoid of Germans. Such an opportunity could not possibly have been missed, and now the ammo and guns were stored away where the Nazis would never find them.

"I mean," Elle frowned. "I just don't get it. One moment she's risking her life for us, and the next she's kissing that, that evil son of a bitch!" She turned to Marlene, who was making a low, warning sound in her throat.

"Keep your voice down," the larger woman quietly ordered. "You wouldn't want anyone to realize that you're still here."

"Sorry." Elle glanced upward toward the darkened house that stood behind Marlene, the two women swallowed by its shadow as they stood in the garden's back doorway. Marlene was right; she shouldn't have raised her voice so much, even if the party-goers had immediately crashed upon returning home, but keeping her emotions in check was very difficult sometimes. Like now. Right now, she couldn't stop thinking about the pistol that was stashed behind the washing machine, or the ammo that she'd carefully hidden in the pantry. The thought of taking action made her very nervous—excited, but nervous. Her hands had shaken when she'd held the pistol, and she'd never fired a weapon before in her life. Jacob said that it was easy, but...

"You're not ready for this," Marlene commented.

"For what, mama Marlene?"

"Don't play dumb. I saw you and Pierre shuffling about the house all evening—saw you trying not to catch my attention. Let me tell you something, child: If a mouse so much as squeaks in that house, I know about it." Elle hung her head, feeling a bit ashamed of herself, but also irritated that she'd felt the need to sneak around Marlene in the first place.

"We didn't mean anything by it," she pouted. "We just thought it'd be easier this way."

"You mean that Jacob thought it would be easier," Marlene retorted, but not angrily. "Do you honestly think that I'm an obstacle? That I'd stand in your way?"

"Well, you practically treat the house like it's holy," Elle stated. "We know that you'd help, but it's just...Mama Marlene, the house is going to be destroyed. You grouch at me if I so much as drop one of madame's plates." To her surprise, Marlene let loose with a stifled laugh that made Elle tense. It was a harsh laugh—a bitter laugh.

"The house was destroyed the moment that Landa stepped foot in it," Marlene stated. "If I cling to what remains of it, it's out of habit, not affection. Hell, maybe there's _some_ affection, but this home has lost its soul. You can't mourn it's passing forever." But Elle thought that Marlene just might try. The woman might cling to what remained of this shell of a home forever, and the thought made Elle shift her feet in discomfort. This had to be done. She wanted it done. She wanted the violence to come and consume everything in a hellfire, but something told her that Marlene did not share her vehement thirst for vengeance. The woman was hard, but not nearly as heartless as she appeared. Recent developments had deeply disappointed Elle in that regard.

"You'll have to kill, Elle," Marlene commented, the woman's voice devoid of warmth. "And once it starts, it won't stop. You'll be a wanted woman."

"I'm ready," Elle firmly stated, eyes flashing with anger. "You always make these little comments, as if you're questioning my decision. It was you who suggested we burn everything in the first place! You wanted to kill them yourself."

"I still do."

"But where is your anger now?" She stood staring at Marlene in a mixture of frustration and regret. She should not be talking to her companion like this. Marlene had always taken care of her—made sure that Schneider kept to himself once Elle had done her distasteful duty, and brought tea to her on cold days—but where had Marlene's unquenchable determination to kill her enemies gone? "You're not even disgusted to see that German maid kissing Landa, when she was helping us only days ago!"

"Wrath can't be the only thing to keep you alive, silly girl," Marlene admonished her. "You're fast on your way to becoming someone that you won't like. That is why I ask you questions!" The sharp edge to Marlene's voice dared Elle to continue arguing, and so the girl looked away from her friend, unsure as to how she should respond.

"I just don't understand why..."

"You have mistaken Adelgiese for something that she's not," Marlene continued. "I have not, and being what we are, I see no reason to begrudge the woman her decisions anymore than I'll begrudge you yours. That is why I'm not angry with her. Your emotions are very much misplaced in this, Elle. Save your anger for something that matters."

"But then why...?"

"Adelgiese was never on our side," Marlene explained. "She acted on the boy's behalf. I suppose she felt morally obligated to do something for the child, but no matter her reasoning, I doubt that her intentions were ever to fight Landa or the Germans. It just happened that her actions brought her into conflict with Landa this time. Don't confuse that woman's actions with her allegiances. She watches her own back, and she's technically on Landa's side. She always was."

Elle let the information sink in as she stared at the house, her eyes heading straight for the window that led to Adelgiese's room. Marlene's explanation made sense, but she still found it difficult to accept that Adelgiese could be both moral and side with Landa. If had to be for the sake of the child, Brigitte. Unfortunately, both would be killed in the upcoming attack, and as Elle reflected on that thought, she decided that such a tragedy would not affect her in the least. One family had died already, and they'd done nothing to deserve it. It was Landa's turn to suffer, and without blood, she did not see how proper payment could be exacted. Adelgiese had dug her own grave, and now she could lay in it with the child.

"I should go," Elle decided. "It's already so late. I'll see you tomorrow."

"8 am sharp." Marlene _would_ say that.

Elle hurried through the darkness of Paris, eager to be home, and her memory fixed on the feel of a pistol in her hands. The attack would not be held off much longer now that the boy was gone, and Marlene was not to know about it in advance. She'd shown a lackluster response to the impending strike since the boy's death, and Jacob was warning that the woman might be pulling out due to her tentative relationship with Adelgiese. In the end, Elle didn't see how it mattered. Whether Marlene refused to partake in the bloodshed or not, it was coming, and for that, Elle wasn't sure whether she should count down the days or try to live these last peaceful moments without a thought to the future.

XXXXXXxxxxxXXXXXXXxxxxXXXx

"Landa wants breakfast," Pierre stated. "Guess who he wants to deliver it."

"Natuerlich," Adelgiese sighed while grabbing a loaded tray and heading upstairs. Thoughts of the staff were quickly replaced by thoughts of warm lips and inappropriate behavior as she did so, for last night was still fresh on her mind. Landa had practically been devouring her with his eyes in that hallway, and damn but his fingers had slid as low as the back of her dress allowed. She could imagine his digits gliding expertly down the small of her back, lingering there for but a moment before diving lower to caress skin that hadn't been touched in a very long time.

_A very, very long time,_ Adelgiese wryly thought. The dress that she'd worn to the party was still in her room, indiscriminately flopped over the back of a chair where she'd flung it before crawling into bed last night. She'd since traded elegance for a simple white blouse and black skirt today, and she'd intentionally chosen a look that was both reserved but accentuated her curves. Landa was dangerous, yes, but she'd found one of his weak points, and she wasn't about to dress matronly as if she were uncomfortable with his attention. She'd never dressed matronly for anyone, even when she knew how her body could affect lustful men. In fact, sometimes it was a downright advantage, and perhaps it would be again now, with this man whose intensity left her spinning.

Adelgiese knocked once on the study's door, the tray gracefully balanced on her left shoulder. She was going to march into that room without letting Landa's eyes alter her sure strides, and she had to admit that she found gratification in this turn of events. After all, if his desire for her was part of his continued insistence that she stay, there was nothing wrong with dangling a little bait before the man. She'd come to that conclusion this morning, when she'd contemplated his passionate assault of her lips, and his admission that he'd taken Lorraine while fantasizing about her. There was something riveting about the whole concept that she could not shake from her mind—not when the man had sent goosebumps over her flesh with every touch of his tongue.

"Ah, that must be you, Del!" Landa called from inside. "Just a moment."

She waited, listening to his feet approaching the closed doors, and still dwelling on his mercurial and charming personality. What stood out most in her mind was not that he wanted her, or that she'd responded to his advances, or even that she held some manner of leverage over him. All of that was secondary to the realization that had hit her when she'd asked herself why Landa would desire her to such a degree, and that was why, even as she cautioned herself, that her free hand undid the top button of her blouse. She'd always naturally opposed Landa's domineering character of her own accord, and damn it, but he actually _liked_ it.

The second button popped free, and the doors swung open.

"Guten Morgen, my dear," Landa greeted in nothing but basic trousers and a plain shirt. He smiled that boyish grin of his, and of course his eyes did not miss the undone buttons.

"Good morning, Oberst," Adelgiese returned. _Do I have your attention?_

"You look wonderful this morning," the man continued, stepping aside to let her enter his domain. "I was worried that you might be feeling unwell given the amount of champagne that you consumed last night." And she secretly wondered how much he'd consumed after returning home, for there was an empty bottle of scotch sitting at the mini-bar.

"I can hold my alcohol, sir," she casually replied. "I've had plenty of practice."

"I'm sure," he ruefully replied, slowly keeping pace with her as she neared the coffee table. If it were a normal day, she'd set the food down, chat with him for a few minutes, and then depart to see to other duties. Sometimes Brigitte joined him for breakfast as well, which would have broken the room's dense atmosphere, but the girl obviously wasn't coming today. Today wasn't exactly just any normal day either, and Adelgiese knew it as she glanced at Landa's carefully cool expression.

"Do you need anything else?" she asked him, earning herself a sly smile in response.

"Do I need anything?" he playfully mused. "No. I don't believe that I do, but there might be something that I want."

"Such as?" Adelgiese asked, feigning ignorance. She stood beside the coffee table, hands folded before her as she regarded him. Being bait without getting bitten was going to require quite a bit of tact on her part, and she suspected that he knew what she was up to given her loose buttons. Then again, there wouldn't be a point to it if he didn't know that she was doing it.

"It's a wonder that Dieter didn't fight me for you," Landa smiled while seating himself at the couch. He allowed himself a small chuckle as he met her eyes, one hand fishing a cigarette out of his pant pocket. "He likes tricky women, you know. He likes the ones who know how to play."

"And would you have fought for me, Herr Oberst?" Landa paused in lighting his cigarette, a hint of appreciation flashing across his face while that sly smile broadened.

"You know," he began, voice warm and contemplative. "I don't know how I would spend my mornings without you anymore, Del." He casually motioned around the study with his smoking cigarette, his eyes leaving hers for only a moment. "I'm afraid that I might be quite bored if I had to go back to my old routine. And yes, my beautiful maid—or should I say prisoner?—I would not have allowed Dieter to charm you away from me. Although, I find it difficult to believe that you would ever let his superficial charms woo you away from this pleasant little repertoire that we share. He's quite brutal beneath his smiles, I assure you."

"I gathered as much," Adelgiese agreed, feeling the warmth of invading sunlight upon her back. She wondered if Landa would be offended if she turned to face that sunlight. Eye contact was his advantage, not hers.

"Come. Take a seat," Landa offered. "I'm feeling most conversational this morning, and we always have such wonderful discussions." Adelgiese obliged him, sitting down on the cushion next to the colonel as he began scooping sugar into his coffee. "Have you eaten yet?" he asked. "I'd hate to detain you when you're hungry."

"If I say 'no', do I get to leave, or do I get to share your coffee?" she boldly asked. She wasn't going to be upset by being detained this time—not when she could feel that the conversation would take a darker turn at any moment. It was only a matter of time, and she was ready.

"Is that any way for maid to be talking to her employer?" Landa asked, brows raised.

"No, but it might be how a prisoner talks to her captor," she casually replied, watching how his calculating eyes hardened ever so slightly. "We've already shared a cigarette, Oberst," she continued with a slight smile of her own. "Coffee would not be so different, and I like mine with sugar as well." He took a long, slow sip of the steaming liquid before returning his attention to her, the mug loosely gripped in one hand as he took another drag of smoke.

"No," he breathed outward with his cigarette. "Dieter most certainly cannot have you. You'd eat him alive." Then, with a renewed smile, he held out the coffee to her. "Help yourself, Fraulein. It's the least that I can do in return for what you're going to give me." Adelgiese knew that her face tightened at his words, and the delight on his face could not have been anything but genuine. "You see, Del," he continued. "There _is_ something that I want, even if I don't necessarily need it. It's something that I've wanted for a very long time, but I didn't want to impose myself on someone who was such a delightful employee. Now, of course," he apologetically shrugged, "you're my prisoner, as you so eloquently put it, and that puts an interesting twist on this whole situation. Don't you agree?"

"I..."

"Of course you agree," he interrupted her, a dark edge underlying his jovial tone. "You openly stated that you're a prisoner not five minutes ago. And so," he sighed, "it's perfectly fair for me to demand something of you. I have, after all, tolerated quite a bit, including having my uniform set on fire. That was very sneaky, by the way." Adelgiese was suddenly very glad for the coffee, for it wetted her dry throat, and drinking gave her time to formulate a reply.

"You want to play rough this morning, don't you?" she asked, although she already knew the answer.

"Fraulein," Landa breathed, leaning closer to her so that she could smell the smoke on his breath and see the lighter shades of brown within his eyes. "_You_ came in here this morning intending to play rough." And he lightly ran a finger across the exposed skin below her neck. Adelgiese watched him sit back with steady eyes but a quickened pulse, the question forming on her tongue one that she didn't particularly want to ask.

"So what exactly do you want, Herr Oberst?"

He leaned against the couch's armrest, and lazily stared through the balcony's glass doors. His gaze seemed fixed on something in the distance, and he certainly wasn't in a rush to answer her, which left Adelgiese stewing with unanswered nervousness. So she sat and examined his calm face—the way that his blond hair seemed lighter in the sunlight, and how there was a faint scar right beneath the lobe of his right ear. She'd never noticed that before, or the way that his eyes became half-lidded in the bright light, as if the warmth were slowly lulling him into a nap. If her unanswered question weren't hanging in the air, she would have called the scene deceptively tranquil.

"What I want," Landa finally continued, again turning his head to look at her. "Is a story."

"A story?" Adelgiese questioned, surprised. "What kind of a story?"

"A story about a woman who got herself captured and branded by the SD."

Oh, _that_ story.

XXXXXXXxxxxxxXXXXXxxxxxxXXXx

"I was helping the resistance forces," Adelgiese began, her voice surprisingly steady, but she wasn't eager to share this, and Landa was well aware of the cold, dead tone that the woman chose to use. She was distancing herself from any emotional connection to this story, and resigning herself to his superior will. His mind happily hummed at the thought that she was admitting such subservience, for she hadn't even fought him on this one. One day he'd completely hammer through her defenses, and then she'd truly belong to him. It was only a matter of timing and persistence.

"What role did you play?" he asked.

"Nothing major," she dismissed. "I passed delicate communication between various groups, but that was all, and there were no problems until after my family exiled me. You could say that my fiancé's boorish behavior and my family's decision made me get more involved, but I was never entrusted with more violent tasks, even after I lost family ties."

"Your father supported the Nazis," Landa guessed.

"Yes," Adelgiese answered, her voice on the verge of sighing. "And the example that he made of me kept my sister in line for a long time. I don't think that she involved herself in anything until after he died, but she should have known better anyway. She was never discreet in anything that she did."

"Agreed." The fact that their brief affair had remained a secret had surprised Landa immensely given Elfriede's glib, talkative manner, but he wasn't interested in Elfriede. He was interested in her sister—the naturally secretive one.

"I worked for the resistance for years," Adelgiese stated. "And the longer I stayed, the more violence I saw. I can't say that I liked it, but it didn't bother me either. I kept myself out of it."

"Until you were captured," Landa amended.

"Until I was captured," she agreed. "Which was a stupid mistake. The meeting's location was supposed to be perfect, and maybe it was, but an agent had followed one of the men. I never even knew the man's name, but then again, I didn't know the identities of most of the people that I worked with. I never gave them my real name either, but I did have one close friend: Julia Stieff. She'd come with me to the meeting, because she was also passing information. That's all we were there for: collecting and dropping off several packets of information at predetermined locations."

"The goal was to smuggle Jews out of Germany?" Landa probed, wondering if the woman harbored an affinity for the distasteful group.

"On this occasional, yes," she admitted. "But most jobs had nothing to due with Jews."

"So your latest attempt at being a heroine was not merely an old habit of principle."

"I don't risk my life for principles," Adelgiese retorted, sounding terse. "Not anymore."

"But you did," Landa added, enjoying her discomfort. She was shrugging his comment off though, and his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to her loosened blouse when she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"As you apparently know," she continued. "I was captured at that meeting. One moment we were discussing our plans, and the next the SD was bursting into the room. Someone fired. I don't know who fired first, but then everyone was firing, and I watched Julia get shot in the legs and chest. I tried pulling her through the backdoor, but I knew that she wasn't going to make it. I'm surprised that I even made it. I probably wouldn't have, but someone grabbed me, and I managed to get my hands on the spare pistol at his waist. I'm still not sure how I did that."

"Kaufmann," Landa supplied, knowing that the information would unnerve her.

"Excuse me?"

"The man who you killed was named Kaufmann." She merely nodded, her eyes distant.

"I think that they told me that in the interrogation room," she slowly seemed to recall. "They caught me outside of the theater, but not until after I gave them one well of a chase. Then I was in the interrogation room, and I think that I must have really pissed off the one officer, because he kept trying to beat me into submission. I thought that he might kill me."

"And did your principles keep you silent, my dear?" Landa asked, truly interested in her reasoning for refusing to cooperate with her captors.

"I'm afraid that it wasn't anything that heroic," she darkly smiled. "I knew that they'd probably shoot me afterwards, and I wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me grovel or break before they did so. I was quite spiteful and angry at them for what they'd done." Landa felt himself being drawn into the woman's appeal once more as he pictured her fighting for her life. Of course she wouldn't have taken her beatings like a humiliated animal. No, she was stronger than that, and as she took another sip of coffee to help steady herself, he forgot that he was to investigate a shootout this afternoon. All he could think about was this obstinate woman before him, and to think that she'd fully pulled him under her spell the night before! Well, that went both ways, didn't it? He could tell that he held power over her, and not just because he threatened her, but by the way that she'd arched into his touch when he'd pressed her into the wall.

"And how on earth did you set the interrogation room on fire?" he queried.

"Oh, that," Adelgiese sighed. "I had matches, and when someone leaves you alone for a few minutes, it's amazing what a little paper and wood can do. Although," she frowned, "I very nearly asphyxiated myself in the process. It was a gamble to assume that help would arrive in time."

"And weeks later, you were employed as a maid in the very homes of the people who wanted you dead," Landa contemplated, letting her witness his approval and even his silent praise. "Did finally killing someone snap you out of your ideological battle? I wonder, Del, if you realize just how complicated and tantalizing you really are." She crossed her legs and looked away from him. "Very tantalizing." And when she returned her eyes to him and sluggishly blinked, he knew that she was intentionally trying to keep his interest. She was a very clever woman, but she was also deluding herself if she thought that she was only doing this in the name of survival. Survival did not encompass the whole of this challenge between them, and he was going to force her to see that sooner or later, preferably sooner.

"Are you satisfied?" she asked him.

"Quite, and I shall let you return to work momentarily. There is but one more thing that we need to discuss before you go."

"And that is?"

"With the boy out of the equation, the staff is more likely to..." How to phrase this? "To try something idiotic that will end in their deaths. Oh, I know that you haven't said anything to incriminate them, but it's quite obvious that they were involved with your little escapade. I'm merely letting them think that they've escaped the ax for now due to your taking of the blame. Whatever they're planning, I'm not overly concerned, and while you've hinted at it all along, I want to hear you say it, Del. Where do your loyalties lie?"

"With my family," the woman immediately replied, causing Landa to level a cold stare at her. "With Brigitte...with you." Such sweet words.

"Then I suggest that you do your best to protect your interests, Fraulein. Keep Brigitte close to you. She's not to be alone with the staff. Ever."

"I'll keep her safe." And pulling a tie free from her skirt's pockets, she began pulling her hair back into a ponytail, her long, slender neck exposed as she did so. Was she tilting her head like that on purpose? So that he could gaze at the swatch of smooth skin running from her jaw, down her collarbones, and further south? Landa studied her every movement as she finally stood and returned his almost finished coffee to him. He could only stare as she leaned over to do so, the mug landing in his waiting hands.

"Have a good day, Oberst," she softly spoke. "And thank you for the coffee." Damn little minx, but he meant that in the most complimentary way.

"I will," he stated. Then she was leaving, and he let her leave, knowing that he could bide his time, even if that was the furthest thing from his mind right now. He had work to attend to, but he was definitely going to call on his favorite maid again, and maybe there would be other things to discuss at that juncture. Then again, why call on her at all? He liked to catch her off guard, and perhaps it was time to change the battlefield's location. With a smirk, he dressed for a long day.


	19. Chapter 19: N eeds and Desires

Chapter 19: Needs and Desire

Hellstrom's neck had been pinned to the table with a knife, and that didn't even begin to describe the carnage that had taken place in La Louisiana. Landa had walked among the gore with a discerning eye, noting the dead Germans and the Allies, and certainly not missing the lone, fashionable high heel that was left beneath a table. The wearer was missing, but he knew who'd worn that shoe, and he knew with certainty that she was attending the upcoming premier. As for Hellstrom...well, he'd spared the man a moment of silent contemplation, having taken in the disheveled brown hair and rumbled, bloody SS uniform, but nothing more. The young man had been a trusted colleague with a streak of tenacity and charm not unlike his own, but now the boy's career had been cut short.

One never knew when death would come knocking, and Landa considered that thought as he returned home later in the day. The sun was sinking fast, and he was left with more clues than he usually obtained, which was a windfall really, but he had death on his mind now that the excitement had passed. Adelgiese had been dancing with Hellstrom only two days ago, and who would have guessed that the man would now be dead, stabbed repeatedly in the neck from behind? Landa had tasted his own mortality on numerous occasions, such as during his brief stint in Spain—a victory to which his Spanienkreuze attested—but he'd never truly considered that he might die during moments of near-death experience. Adrenaline tended to keep him from thinking too much. Now though...well, the house was quiet, and he was reminded of the enormous bullseye that perpetually decorated his back.

The house could blow up tonight, and take everything and everyone with it. For the life of him, Landa couldn't decide if the thought should bother him or not, for he'd accepted these risks long ago, but he didn't like to think about them. His records never sounded as soothing if he thought about how he might die, and while he hardly feared god, if god even existed, he wondered how many times he'd been damned to hell by his targets. Many people considered him a monster worthy of hell, and where death would lead, he didn't know. It wasn't something that he spent time thinking about, except for moments like now, when he'd just seen a very gifted man cut down at the height of his ambitions.

Landa personally considered himself a mere man that was doing his job, and it just happened that he was very ruthlessly efficient at what he did. He wasn't a good man in any sense of the word, but for all that, he would never call himself evil either. It just happened that his world wasn't very conducive to being lenient and peaceful, as Hellstrom's death had shown. Under other circumstances, he would be pleased to be hunting down criminals rather than Jews. He certainly didn't like living with a bullseye on his back, and he really didn't like the idea of Brigitte being murdered either. She actually looked at him like he wasn't a monster, but rather a professional detective, which was what he was, damn it. Alas, life was what it was, and he'd earned a name for himself.

_"Do you know when you're the most attractive to me, Oberst? When you smile at your daughter—not one of your fake smiles, but a real one. You seem more real when you're with her."_

Ah, Adelgiese, and Lorraine wondered why a maid could fascinate him so. There was something genuine about his prisoner—something honest and caring that he could always see beneath her flirtation and stealth. The fact that the woman had risked her secrets and life in bringing his daughter here was proof enough of that, and her attempt to save the Jewish boy...yes, no matter how pragmatic the woman claimed to be, she was motivated by drives and emotions that very few people possessed. There was an integrity to her convictions and life that asked for no apology, and Adelgiese wouldn't have offered one anyway.

"Sir," Schneider said, interrupting Landa's thoughts.

"Yes?"

"It's sensitive, sir. Perhaps we could talk elsewhere?"

"But of course," Landa agreed, leading the way to his study. He had the urge to see what Adelgiese was up to, for as he passed her bedroom door, he heard what suspiciously sounded like someone jumping on a bed. Well, Brigitte was probably in there with her aunt, which suited him just fine since the girl's lessons were over for the day. He trusted Adelgiese to keep the girl safe.

"What do you wish to speak about?" he asked while taking a seat behind his desk.

"Elle was seen speaking with several people this afternoon. She rarely risks being seen with anyone during daylight hours, and I've seen one of the men that she spoke with before. It was very unusual for her to have such a quick meeting during hours that she's supposed to be here, so I couldn't help but apprehend one of the young gentleman afterwards. They're planning to attack the house at the end of the week, and it sounds like they've got plenty of weapons to do it."

"So my treacherous staff is beginning to show its true colors at last," Landa stated. "Good. I trust that you disposed of the man in a way that no one will find him."

"He won't be missed for several days," Schneider assured Landa. "The group doesn't meet very often, and I doubt they'll risk exposing themselves before an attack. The man's death shouldn't tip anyone off."

"Good. Keep following Elle. I want to know exactly when the strike will happen, and as soon as they're about to launch it, you can kill her. I'll handle the remaining preparations. Oh, and call the main office. I want extra men stationed outside at all times, but they're not to be seen. I want all of the mice in the trap before we spring it. I trust that you've already found a suitable bird's nest for yourself?"

"Yes, sir," Schneider obediently nodded. "I plan on sleeping there until this matter is settled. Do you require anything else before I go, sir?"

"No," Landa dismissed, but he quickly changed his mind. "Actually," he mused, again thinking about his maid. "Has Adelgiese reported anything concerning the staff?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir."

"Hmmm. Tell Zissel that he's to notify immediately if she does."

"Are you expecting her to be helpful, sir?" Schneider asked, sounding mildly surprised.

"Yes," Landa lightly smiled. "That's all. Now you may go." And go the man did, leaving Landa staring at his desk as he pictured Adelgiese entering the room. The thought was so compelling that he almost decided to have her bring him tea or something to eat, but then he remembered his earlier resolution: to surprise her in a different setting, one where she might not so easily regain her footing. With a light smile, he leaned back in his chair and decided to forget about death for the moment. He would see Brigitte to bed. Then he'd be alone to deal with the other woman in his life, and with a grudging admittance, he allowed himself to accept that he'd been looking forward to coming home to both of them after leaving a blood-soaked bar. Death could not enter his mind when either of the two were nearby.

"Aunty Del!" Brigitte called, drawing the woman's attention. "You seem lost today."

"I've just been thinking a lot," Adelgiese admitted. "I think that maybe you should sleep here, in my room tonight. What do you think?"

"Yeah!" Brigitte instantly agreed. "It will be like a slumper party. I'll go get my favorite pillow." The girl whipped the door open and stepped out into the hall, but no sooner had she done so then she was excitedly bouncing up and down. "Del!" she called. "Vatti's home. Hallo! Del and I are having a sleepover. Do you want to come too?" Adelgiese couldn't see Landa yet, but she certainly heard him.

"I would love to have a sleepover," he was saying. _I'm sure you would._ "But I'm going to be very busy tonight. Why don't you sleep in your room, and we'll save the sleepover for a time when all three of us can be together?" Adelgiese could now see the devious man as she approached her bedroom's open doorway, and Brigitte stood before him in the hallway, seemingly weighing her options.

"I guess we could do that," the girl unhappily thought aloud. "How about tomorrow then?"

"Maybe. Would you like me to tuck you in tonight?"

"Herr Oberst," Adelgiese interrupted. "Wouldn't it be safer if...?"

"I assure you that tonight is perfectly safe. Trust me." She wondered why he was so confident, but then again, why was the man ever as confident as he was? "I'll handle the little one tonight," he continued, and Adelgiese watched father and daughter walk down the hallway, hand-in-hand, as if everything was perfectly wonderful. In Brigitte's world, everything probably was, but Adelgiese couldn't help but feel apprehensive about the girl being alone. Like Landa, she knew that the staff was plotting, but she was no longer privy to those plots.

"Goodnight, Del!" Brigitte called with a brief wave of a tiny hand.

"Goodnight." Adelgiese then shut her bedroom door and moved toward the window, which was still open. Light rain had begun to fall, but she could tell that it would soon turn into a downpour as she listened to the sky rumble like some awakening beast. The lights of Paris twinkled through the rainy haze, and the usual sounds of night traffic and activities were swallowed by the sound of a million falling drops. They splashed her skin as they blew onto the windowsill, and they struck the shed's metal roof with soft, metallic pings, allowing her to lose herself in the simple feel of nature. It was a relaxing sensation as she leaned against the wall, and the beautiful sounds from outside would certainly lull her into a sound sleep tonight.

_The rain washes away all signs of bloodshed—all tears of grief. _

Adelgiese left the window open as she moved toward her bed, her hands quickly removing her clothing and tossing them aside. They joined the lovely, black dress that was still hanging over the back of a stray chair, and Adelgiese paused as she stared at that chair. Even in finery, she'd felt the weight of life upon her tired shoulders, which had detracted from the sparkling illusion of a fanciful party. Here though, in this room, she was alone and without a role to play. No one was here to see her indulge in anything frivolous, and when was the last time that she'd done something like this purely for herself? There had been times as a young girl, when she'd dressed up with her younger sister, if only to parade around the hallways as if they were queens. She'd loved using her mother's 'Scarlet Evening' lipstick, while Elfrieda had preferred going after mother's pearls.

"Why not?" Adelgiese sighed, advancing on the chair. It wasn't the dress that she reached for though. No, her hands were aiming for the small box of jewelry that Landa had never retrieved from her. The velvet case flipped open to reveal the dangling earrings, necklace, and bracelet that she'd worn to the party, and all glittered like the diamonds that she thought they were, but she wasn't certain if they were real. They'd probably belonged to the former mistress of this house, or maybe Landa had confiscated them from SS evidence boxes. There was plenty of unclaimed wealth sitting around with the number of richer people who'd been liquidated.

Whatever the source of the jewelry, Adelgiese adorned her naked body with it, pulling her hair back into a loose bun so that she could see the jewels dangling beside her neck. In the soft light of her room, and with the curtains almost completely drawn shut, she examined herself in a tall mirror, inwardly making fun of herself for even doing something like this. If she turned the lights down a little further, its dullness would even hide the scars that adorned her body, for right now, the cross on her shoulder was clearly visible. Its ugliness contrasted with the sleek necklace that fell to rest above her cleavage, and as she examined the rest of her pale skin, she realized that even as she'd used her beauty, it had been some time since she'd truly felt beautiful.

Maybe she _would_ dim the lights a little. This was a peaceful moment that needn't be tainted by any reminders of bad memories.

"I see that the jewelry is being put to good use."

Adelgiese spun as Landa entered the room, the man shutting and leaning against the door as he simply stared at her. She stared back, her naked body on full display as she crossed arms over her chest—not hiding her breasts, but emphasizing her annoyance at his intrusion.

"What are you doing, Herr Oberst?" she asked, warily watching as the man tossed his uniform's jacket aside to join her clothing. "I thought that you were busy." She couldn't really think of anything else to say as the man began walking toward her.

"Is my company so displeasing?" he asked with faked offense. "You didn't object to my attention before..." His voice trailed off as he undid the cuffs of his dress shirt, and still his eyes were fixed on her body, although they kept shifting to the right. Oh, Adelgiese realized, he could see the rest of her through the mirror, and she still hadn't a clue as to how to get the man to leave short of beating him, which would go over wonderfully.

"Maybe I didn't object because your tongue was in my mouth," she protested, making Landa chuckle. She inhaled deeply as he walked within two feet of her, his tie landing on the floor beside her feet. "Herr Oberst," she boldly told him, "I'm asking you to leave."

"For appearance's sake?" he challenged, his presence bearing down upon her. "No one knows that I'm here, and you've been tempting me for a long time, Del. The foot on my lap, the unbuttoned blouse...the jewelry on a bare neck." One of his hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her closer while the other hand lifted the necklace's central jewel from her skin. "It matched the dress perfectly," he mused, voice low. "But it looks much better this way." Adelgiese was against the side of his body now, and she found herself drawn into his hold, her tongue twisted as she remembered his previous, passionate caress. Damn, but the man wanted her.

"I've come to some conclusions, my dear," he confessed in her ear, his mouth very close as he planted a kiss on her neck. "You're an absolute paragon of a human being." Another kiss touched her lower neck. "I'm not sure if I could break you, even given an infinite amount of time, although I truly thought that I might try."

"Herr Oberst..." Her fingers curled into his shirt as his left hand slipped unacceptably low along her thighs.

"You're a good person, Del, but you also live in the dark, don't you?" He smiled against the skin of her shoulder, and Adelgiese was at a complete loss. "I don't even think that you realize you're a good person, but I'm telling you that you are. It's amazing how similar we are in how we approach other people and life, but you would never call me a good person, would you?" She stared at him as he brought his face to hers, their noses touching as he stared at her with a perfectly serious expression.

"I don't know what I'd call you," she confessed. "But not good."

"Hmmm," he lightly hummed, kissing her deeply and pulling her tight against his chest. Her arms were around his waist as he did so, her senses flooded as he begin leading her toward the bed. "I think we compliment each other perfectly," he stated, pressing himself against her while he held her lower back. "And I think that you know exactly how you'd describe me." His hard eyes challenged her to disagree as he pushed her to sit on the edge of the mattress while he stood. "But you won't tell me to leave this room again, despite all that."

"Oberst."

"Hans," he corrected her, sitting on the edge of the bed as he undid his shoes and tossed them aside.

"Hans, who's winning this round?" And then he was pushing her into the mattress, kissing her as she angled her head backward to grant him access to her jawline and neck. She touched his back, pushing him to lose control as he became more demanding.

"Del," he slyly spoke, pausing as he sat up to remove his pants. "I've already won this round, but that's a rather unpleasant way to view this time together."

"I could still make you leave," Adelgiese protested. "Or would you take me by force?"

"No," Landa stated, eyes dancing raucously. "And I admit that you hold some power here, but that's exactly why I've won." She stared at him, uncomprehending before he was again atop her, this time much more exacting with his movements. "I've won because you're letting me. You've accepted your loss of power, and that, my dear Fraulein, is precisely why this is so satisfying." Adelgiese didn't argue as he took her, and as the rain continued to fall outside her window, all she heard was her own breathing and the labored breath of the man above her. Two bodies intertwined. A hand fumbling to turn off of the lights completely. And then nothing but warmth.


	20. Chapter 20: U nder the Axe

Chapter 20: Under the Ax

Brigitte tiptoed her way down the hallway, her bare feet silent on the carpet as she crept toward Adelgiese's bedroom door. It was so early that the sun had barely risen, and while she usually liked to cling to her bed as long as possible, she knew that aunty was probably awake by now, and, well, quite frankly, she wanted company. Her room had felt extra lonely after vatti had tucked her in and simply left, especially since she'd been looking forward to a sleepover. Well, all three of them would have a sleepover tonight, and that would be great fun!

The girl giggled to herself as she arrived at Adelgiese's door, her tongue itching to be vocal, but she'd been told on more than one occasion that being loud this early in the morning was bad. Other people might be sleeping, and waking them up would be plain rude. So she held herself in check as she slowly cracked the door open and stuck her head inside. If aunty wasn't awake yet, she'd go find vatti, but it didn't look like she needed to look for him at all, for there, sitting against the headboard, was a very shirtless vatti. The lump under the blankets beside him had to be her aunt, and Brigitte immediately broke out into a smile so large that she was sure her face wasn't big enough to hold it.

Aunty and vatti had slept in the same bed. That's what mommy and her other daddy had always done. Didn't that mean that they were in love? Adults only shared a bed if they were in love...or if the house was too small, like aunty had once told her. Sometimes people had to share, but vatti had his own room, which meant that he'd chosen to share aunty's bed. Brigitte decided that this was a very good development—so good, in fact, that she just stood in the doorway grinning like she'd uncovered the greatest treasure in the world.

"Guten Morgen," her father lazily greeted, smiling at her expression. Then he held a finger to his lips and pointed at aunty. Oh, so she was still sleeping.

"Hallo," Brigitte whispered, still bouncing in place due to excitement, but she had a feeling that vatti didn't want her to enter the room. She couldn't very well crawl onto the bed without waking her aunt up, and it looked like aunty didn't have to work today. Maybe she should let vatti and Del have some time alone for adult stuff. That was important too. She would just...

"Hey!" she suddenly frowned, accusingly glaring at her father. "You had a sleepover without me! Not fair."

"Shhhh," Landa warned her, but with a smile. "Go back to your room."

"But...!" He gave her a look that told her arguing was pointless.

"Fine," she grumpily admitted, but then her father bent and planted a light kiss on aunty's head, and that perked Brigitte back up. With a silly smile, she shut the door while her father winked, like they had just shared a secret. With another giggle, she was running down the hallway to her room, happy as could be, but she was definitely talking to aunty about this later. She wasn't going to miss the next sleepover.

Adelgiese slowly opened her eyes, and felt Landa shift beside her. So he had stayed the night, which she hadn't particularly expected, and now he was sitting in the bed, looking sideways at her while enjoying a morning smoke of his pipe. It was a ridiculous pipe, but she was less concerned with that than his contented appearance as he worked at the tobacco.

"You're finally awake," he greeted her.

"Hmmm," she hummed in response, looking up at the ceiling as she reveled in the warmth of the surrounding blankets. In another few weeks, the weather would begin to grow warm again, making snuggling like this uncomfortable, but for now she merely relaxed and closed her eyes as she listened to the room's silence.

"You're not your usual, restless self," she commented.

"You thought that I'd be anxious to leave?" Landa asked, and even with closed eyes, Adelgiese felt him staring at her.

"Perhaps," she calmly replied. "You don't seem like the snuggling type. I'm surprised that you're not in uniform yet."

"I'm a smart man," he said, and she heard the laughter in his voice. Several of his fingers were brushing hair away from her neck so that he might gently flick one of her earrings. "I'm in bed with a beautiful woman who's naked but for jewels. Only an idiot would leave that behind without a second thought, and even someone as restless as I am appreciates a slow morning. I don't get them very often..." Adelgiese muttered some soft reply as his weight shifted toward the edge of the bed. What was he doing now? Maybe he would leave since she was awake, but she didn't open her eyes until she heard the faint click of what sounded like a gun being loaded.

"What are you doing?" she asked, sitting up as Landa held a pistol on his lap.

"There might come a time when you need to defend yourself," he shrugged. "Seeing as how I can't be around all of the time, it might be prudent for you to have a weapon." Well this was a strange turn of events after a romantic night. Adelgiese eyed the gun, and wondered what had triggered Landa's decision. He'd never entrusted her with a weapon before, and he certainly knew that she'd shot and killed a man before.

"Should I expect violence in the near future?" she carefully asked.

"I might have heard some rumors," Landa admitted. "I'm assuming that you know how to load and fire a pistol..."

"Of course," she answered, and he extended the weapon to her. Her fingers wrapped around the holster and prepared the take the gun from his hands, but as she gave it a light tug, Landa resisted releasing the weapon. His eyes drilled into hers with a steel that she'd almost forgotten while he'd held her last night.

"If you ever point this at me," he warned with a voice full of menace. "You will regret it for the rest of your life, _and_ you'll be betraying Brigitte."

"I'm well aware of that...Hans." It still felt strange to call him that.

"I've taken some extra security precautions," he added, now fully releasing the weapon to her. "But I don't want anyone to know about them, so there are some limitations that you might find disagreeable. For one, Brigitte will not be assigned a bodyguard, even if she should have one. Schneider suggested it, but I think that you're fully capable of watching out for the girl." So he trusted her enough for this, and enough to sleep unguarded by her side. Adelgiese hadn't expected that after telling him about her assault on SD members, but that was long ago, or at least, it felt like a lifetime ago. Looking at him sitting on her bed, naked as the day he was born, it felt like everything was a lifetime ago, even her first meeting with him.

"Spare ammo?" she questioned.

"In your panty drawer," he smiled. "Oh, and I took the liberty of examining your collection while I was at it. I look forward to seeing the red ones." Adelgiese had nothing to say to that as she tucked the gun beneath her pillow. She didn't like handling guns if she didn't need to, but she also grudgingly admitted that having one made her feel safer. Now, if anything threatened her or the child while the men were away...

"Thank you," she honestly told him. "It's nice to know that I don't just have a kitchen knife."

"It's up here?" Landa asked, sounding amused.

"In the vanity," Adelgiese said, nodding toward the piece of furniture. "I'm a cautious woman."

"That's why I'm entrusting you with this," he told her. "I don't think that Brigitte could be in better hands, and if the gun fails, I suppose that you could always start a fire." He was teasing her, and Adelgiese allowed herself a small smile. "Ah, but I haven't given you a proper greeting this morning, have I?" She blinked, and then he was kissing her, slowly and sensuously, and she could find no complaints. This was a different Landa than what she'd expected, but not so different from his normal, charming, detail-orientated self that she was overly surprised. He was a thorough man if nothing else, and as his lips left hers, she wondered what any of this newfound intimacy between them meant. Probably nothing.

"Would you object if I returned tonight?" he asked her. "You're unusually quiet this morning, but there's no taking this back."

"I didn't think that there was," she simply replied. "But that doesn't mean that I'm yours to call on whenever you'd like. I'm not Lorraine." She flashed him dangerous eyes, daring him to contradict her, but he merely titled his head with an equally stern expression.

"I could not possibly confuse the two of you," he stated. "But I haven't given you any promises either. Women always seem to want a promise after the deed is done, but I don't make promises very often, and they're rarely pleasant promises. I should think that's apparent."

"It is," she replied, leaning forward and capturing his lips. "And I'm not a silly girl hoping that you'll whisk me away and marry me." She sadly smiled at the naïve idea, and let Landa see her wry expression. "I'm not asking for a meaningless promise, Oberst," she explained. "I was simply making a point that you shouldn't take this for granted, and to be perfectly honest, I'm still a little amazed that you're lounging naked in my bed." He smiled at that, leaning into the pillows as if to prove her point.

"I'm still a little amazed that you're not trying to get me out of it," he shot back. "I should warn you though, Del, that I'm not a man who likes to share anything that I've lain claim to. Lorraine was something entirely different, but you..." His eyes scorched heat over her body, reminding Adelgiese about the violent hunger that lurked somewhere beneath his calm surface. She had no doubt that he meant what he was saying.

"Do you have any idea how long it's been since I last had sex?" she asked him, and when he didn't answer: "Years. I'm not looking for a man, Hans. Handling you has been work enough since I came here, and that was before I ever thought that I'd let you touch me."

He chuckled goodheartedly as she stood from the bed, feeling more aware now that she'd talked with this man about what had happened. At least there were some basic perimeters set up so that they both understood what this meant in their daily lives. She hated having to guess all of the time, which had been a great annoyance to her in past relationships. The ones who annoyed her too much had never lasted long. Landa wouldn't hesitate to speak his mind though.

"You can't honestly be planning to get dressed already," he commented when she began selecting an outfit.

"I just remembered that I threw a box of truffles into the back of the pantry," she stated while pulling a blouse over her head. "And I think that chocolate in bed is the only way to end our self-indulgence." He again chuckled, laying down in the bed as she removed her jewelry and went toward the door.

"I'll wait for room service then," he called after her.

"You ought to get dressed before Brigitte decides to pop in," Adelgiese added, knowing the girl's habits. She couldn't imagine the child walking in on a naked Landa, and then she would have to explain why Landa was naked and in her bed. Naked sleepovers weren't exactly an easy thing to explain to a child who probably thought that boys had cooties. And so she was relieved when there was no sign of the girl roaming the halls, but it was quite early in the morning. Only the staff would be awake and beginning to prepare breakfast, a task that Adelgiese had never been assigned.

"Good morning," she greeted as she entered the kitchen. Pierre nodded as he continued to grate fresh cheese, and Elle said nothing. Only Marlene spoke, offering a respectful hello as she continued to scrub potatoes in the sink. Soon the entire downstairs would smell of fried potatoes, bacon, and whatever Pierre was going to do with the cheese. Adelgiese didn't particularly care as she headed for the pantry, thinking only of chocolate and the disgusted looks that these people would give her if they knew about what she'd done. She couldn't blame them, especially when she herself had only just accepted offering her body to a man with whom she was often at odds. Or maybe that was a skewed perception. After all, somewhere along the line, they'd both agreed to play the game, and they'd been operating by the same rules for some time. Maybe this escalation had been unavoidable then, given their natural bent for competition. Her secrets had been blood to Landa's senses, and his tenacity had brought out the limits of her own scheming personality. They'd been chasing each other in circles without actually trying to find a way out of the circle—just taking jabs at each other while trying to keep a step ahead. And hadn't it made her feel more alive and active than she had in a long time? Kisses in the morning light, but he wasn't her friend. A lover, yes, but whatever else there was to them after last night, she found that she couldn't label it.

Adelgiese wondered how long she'd been standing still with one hand frozen on the pantry door's handle. Elle was staring at her like maybe she'd finally lost her senses, and Pierre kept glancing at her. Marlene was stoic as ever, as if scrubbing potatoes was the most important thing in the world at the moment. Surprise. Surprise.

"Landa gave me the day off," she shared, feeling awkward to be silently standing amongst these people while rooting through shelves of canned goods and bagged foods. Where were those truffles? She'd decided to buy them on a whim, and...

"Any special reason?" Elle insinuating asked, her tone polite but hardly friendly.

Grape juice. Beets. Pickles.

"He did not say."

What the hell was in _that_ bag? She tossed it aside as well.

It was strange to think of these people as enemies now. If something happened, they would all be killed, even Old Guy for simply being connected to the rest of the staff. It wasn't a pleasant idea, not when Adelgiese considered how stalwart and brave someone like Marlene was. God, but she hoped nothing came of their bitterness. It would be better for everyone involved if they kept themselves uninvolved and protected. They were lucky that Landa hadn't already lynched them, especially considering the incident with the boy. Enough blood had been shed in this damned household without adding more through some dramatic attempt at revenge.

"What are you looking for?" Marlene suddenly asked.

"Chocolate. I bought chocolate." Pausing in her search, she wondered if they knew that they were safe for now. Maybe, if they thought that they were endangered, they would act rashly, but she hadn't said anything to Landa about their connection to the Jewish boy, and he apparently wouldn't act on his conjectures alone. Of course, the intuitive bastard _had_ to already know, but that was another matter entirely.

"He doesn't have evidence," she quietly shared, drawing everyone's attention, but she didn't look at them. Her eyes were fixed on a large bag that was marked 'potatoes'. Hadn't she put her chocolate behind some potatoes? "He can't do anything." Both of her hands fastened around the potato bag, because it wasn't an overly large bag, but then why was it abnormally heavy? What the hell? It didn't feel like there were potatoes in it at all, and as she moved to set it on the floor, she heard a cascade of soft, metallic clicks. One bullet slipped through a hole in the fabric, and hit the floor, and then another and another. The sound seemed to fill the entire kitchen as Adelgiese watched one slowly roll across the tiles towards Elle's shoes.

"Oh shit," she breathed. One second she was holding the bag, and the next she had dropped it and was grabbing the pantry door, yanking it shut as Pierre rushed at her. She held the doorknob for dear life, bracing her feet against the doorframe to prevent Pierre from pulling the door open and reaching her, but he was stronger than her, and...Adelgiese began to sweat as she swore that Pierre had just told Elle to get the ax from beside the stove. Oh shit indeed, and if she screamed for help, no one upstairs was likely to hear her through the cement walls surrounding her. Maybe they'd hear something, but not if they were chatting and smoking, and damn it, but someone was making loud noise with the pots and pans as her lungs opened anyway.

_Think. Think. _

"Elle, call them! Everything is ruined if they don't come now."

"This isn't how we planned it!"

"It doesn't matter. There won't be a second chance." Adelgiese listened as she continued to pull against the door, her arms aching, but the sound of blood rushing through her veins seemed to drown everything else out. The door was beginning to open, inching outward and letting light creep into the pantry as Adelgiese grit in teeth in determination. Her hands were still desperately gripping the doorknob when a strong yank pulled her into the kitchen with the fully opened door, and then she was reaching for Pierre's face with her fingernails. She would break free and run—scream so that everyone else knew that something wasn't right. The scream was already working its way up her throat when the breath was knocked from her. She'd been thrown to the floor, and now a thick rag was being jerked across her mouth, muffling her scream to a harmless level as hands violently seized her.

"I've got her," Marlene's voice rumbled, and laying on her stomach, Adelgiese's hands were tied behind her back, leaving her helpless. Her face was pressed against the cool tile as she turned her head to see what was happening. Scheisse, but they were tying her legs as well. There would be no getting out of this one unless the perfect opportunity fell right into her lap. Her heart rate spiked as she began thinking about her chances, especially since Pierre was standing over her with an ax in one hand.

"We should just kill her," the man neutrally stated. "She's one of them."

"She's a maid," Marlene replied with an overly stern voice. "And one who helped us. Leave her tied in the pantry." Pierre hesitated, eyeing Adelgiese with a blank expression as she stared up at him. She had to get out of this. She had to get to Brigitte.

"Fine. I'm going with Elle. The others will be here any moment." Marlene nodded, and then Pierre was gone, leaving Adelgiese with Marlene, who was dragging her into the pantry by her feet. She didn't know what to expect as Marlene propped her into a sitting position against a shelf and sat down beside her.

"This is a fine mess you've caused, German," the older woman sighed. "I guess I'll go box and carry some of the china into the basement before all hell breaks loose." Adelgiese watched the woman cast her a humorless smile. "Don't thank me for saving you," Marlene then continued. "Jacob isn't going to spare you once he's here. The man has a bloodlust for Landa that is going to kill you too. If you're lucky, and if you stay quiet, maybe everyone will forget that you're here."

"Mmmm. Hmmm. Humph," Adelgiese muttered, trying to speak around the rag, but nothing came out. She had to get out of this place and warn the others, but Marlene was standing and walking away, reaching for the door.

"Goodbye, Adelgiese." Now she was jerking about and frantically making noise, bidding Marlene to stop and listen to her. Maybe the woman would listen to reason, but there wasn't much time for either side. With a curious, stony expression, Marlene turned to look at Adelgiese one last time, and their eyes locked.

_Please, Marlene. You've got to listen to me or we all might die. _

Landa wondered where Adelgiese was with the truffles. It had been almost fifteen minutes now, and he was still laying in bed without any chocolate, and without a woman to warm the other side of the bed either. Maybe Brigitte had detained her aunt, but he supposed that there wasn't any rush this morning. He could wait a bit longer before getting dressed, but if Adelgiese took much longer, he would begin working on some files. There were a few things that needed to be done, including listening to Schneider's latest report. The man had probably been very busy nosing about last night, and he wanted to know if there'd been any breakthroughs.

Landa glanced at the nearest clock. 6:15. Well, since he wasn't busy at the moment, he pulled his pants and shirt on, and meandered to his study. He would call down to Zissel and ask the man to contact Schneider by radio for him.

"Guten Morgen. Landa's residence. Zissel speaking."

"Zissel," Landa began glancing up at his study doors as someone knocked. "Have Schneider report within the hour." Someone knocked on the doors yet again.

"Vatti?" Brigitte called from the other side, opening the doors and popping inside with her messy, blond hair, and a rumbled nightgown. "Oh," she said, seeing him on the phone. "Sorry." Landa stared. If Brigitte was here, what was taking Adelgiese so long? Warning sirens began sounding in his head as the girl drew closer.

"Anything else, Herr Oberst?" Zissel was asking.

"No. I think that will be all."

"Yes..." but the 'sir' never came, Zissel's comment hanging unfinished as something loud crashed in the background of the receiver.

"Zissel?" Landa demanded, but there was no answer. "Zissel!"

"Is something wrong, vatti?" Brigitte asked, staring up at him with a concerned face.

"Stay here, Brigitte. Don't let anyone see you."

"If you try to scream, I'll hit you," Marlene warned her, and Adelgiese shook her head, prompting the other woman to shut the pantry door and remove the gag. "What is it you wish to say, German?" Adelgiese's mouth was dry from the rag, but she quickly swallowed and wetted her lips. This was no time for thoughts of discomfort.

"This won't work. You'll die if you stay here, Marlene." Landa's warning from earlier in the day echoed through her head, as did images of a gun.

"I've accepted that the SS will likely hunt me down," Marlene said with a snort. "Even if I don't lift a finger, so I might as well go down doing something with my life."

"You don't understand!" Adelgiese argued. "This isn't a surprise attack. It won't work, and you will die with the others for nothing!" Marlene eyed her with deep, stormy eyes, but the woman was keeping her face almost perfectly emotionless. Adelgiese did not want to see this woman struck down like an animal.

"What do you mean?"

"Landa isn't in bed," Adelgiese explained. "He's waiting for the chocolate." Marlene's eyes lit with dark understanding at those words. "And he already knew."

"Mon deu," Marlene exhaled, shaking her head. "So what would you like me to do, German? Turn my back on everyone that I have left for your sake? Because I sure as hell won't run for my own—not that it would mean anything. You were right. The staff is marked for death." Adelgiese swallowed, beseeching this stern, rock of a woman before her with worried, blue eyes.

"You can leave, and I will tell Landa that you had nothing to do with this."

"Do I look like a coward?" Marlene barked with laughter.

"No," Adelgiese amended. "But you look tired. You don't want this responsibility. Brigitte will die. She needs me. Blood does not cover blood. Elle doesn't know. Pierre doesn't know. You do."

"Just wash my hands clean of everything, huh?" Marlene actually smiled, but it was a weary smile. "These walls have been my prison for such a long time..." One of her calloused palms pressed against the wall, and for what seemed an eternity, Marlene just stood there, head bowed and eyes closed, as if she were praying. Maybe she was. "Do you believe in god, German?" the woman finally asked, lifting her head.

"Yes," Adelgiese answered.

"So do I, but I sure as hell wish that his sense of justice was a little swifter." Then Marlene was untying Adelgiese's hands and feet, allowing her freedom as the woman shook her head. "You watch yourself, maid."

"You too," Adelgiese returned, clasping the other's hands. It was a brief goodbye, and Adelgiese decided that she'd probably never see the Frenchwoman again. Marlene simply went to the basement, packed a few belongings, and then she was calmly walking out the back of the kitchen, Old Guy at her side as the two passed the garden. The gardener stopped for but a moment to survey his handiwork, but Adelgiese didn't notice. She was already running, and she never looked back. Neither did Old Guy or Marlene as the two disappeared into the awakening streets of Paris, not even as several men with guns bypassed them to enter Landa's home.


	21. Chapter 21: Note

I just wanted to let everyone know that I haven't forgotten about my stories. I've lost most of my interest in fanfiction, but I'll still hold myself to finishing what I started. I know how annoying it is to like a story, and then seen it unfinished, leaving the reader forever wondering about how it would have ended. However, I am entering a very busy time that includes a long trip, so my next update will likely not come for a few months. My apologies, but believe me when I say that I will update as soon as I can.

Thanks for sticking around as my continued readers.


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